Kafilat

I, a miserable child of hope
Struggling to be; grappling to cope
Acting with best of intentions
Based on own interpretations
Of muted orders clarified only
By “need i tell you silly....”
All I get were more spanks
And no heart for thanks

You pray earnestly for a better world;
But artfully prey on a feeble child
Cleric’s sweat not yielding much
On the rope the hen has perched
No rest for the hen,
No rest for the rope

Your wrath flicker at a feather’s touch
Thin-skinned
Yet to court your wrath was costly,
Your wrath being highly infectious
Not to stir others I became cautious
in the pecking order of life, I got bruises

The me-me, a clean slate in pure state;
Expression of which you found offensive,
Turned an object of intense hate.
So distraught, you became oppressive
I succumbed to your external pressures
While keeping intact my inner treasures

In innocence came I in need
Claws under a velvet glove
You took me in, no spare love
For another’s worthless seed
And so in breeding a sheep like a wolf,
Complain not of wolf in sheep’s clothing