Friday, June 11, 2010
Bewailing like mad the lady of the house
Gathers her tears whilst in a state of conjecture;
The old her refuses to obey this reality of speech,
The tears that flow from her organs of sight
Realise the full rigour of life as seen by the naked eye.
Bewailing like apes in custody the lady of this mansion
Will support nobody else, just her husband also damning
The weak and helpless, who despise efforts to rectify.
A house is run like a home, too squalid to live in by others,
But the full rigour of life is gained by the profession
Earning the half of life ascertained by some, by others.