LAMENTATION OF A SAGE IN SEARCH OF LOVE
The memories of the high-school scar is fresh, When I was a toy tossed among babies and left on the floor to be flogged by fire and water. My case was worse, my heart was pierced with hot iron and people watched in ridicule and point the unwanted finger at me from the market square. The whole world was against me! Not a single person was willing to lend me a shoulder to lean on, Not a single soul weaved the mat of pity for me to sit on and lick my wounds. Not a single soul checked the soul of my sole to see how deep I was stabbed, instead they all passed by and laughed at me. The dawn soon came and I crossed to the city, Many women for me to choose; they are many and in colours, many men makes multiple choices, But I needed no multiple choice; I wanted just one woman who could take care of my broken soul, keep him safe and return it to me when I become a man in this rusty city. Women here are winds,