The Pity Of Pities Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

In a year,
You brought me
Ten years younger.
In a month,
You sent me
Ten years older.

In a year,
You exuded my
Hormones to that of a lad.
In a month,
You defused it
Far less to one older than me.

In a year,
You kindled me
To soar to the peak.
In a month,
You bundled me
To plummet to the ditch.

But in a year,
You activated in me
The finest faculty.
It is in a month
That you motivated
It to result in fruiting.

In a month of setting,
Impulses suffered a lot.
Intellect reaped a lot.

Stress breeds in one
The best
Though in the process,
It upsets
Him, the pity of pities.

Can you put me back
To saddle high in the track?
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