Poem To Children

Little children that I once waited for in happiness

I've scarcely now try to notice,

distracted by their rudeness.

These children are from mothers…

the ones that always make trouble,

turn me pale inside—yelling.

Parents! How late did you wakeup today?

With their deafness to poison me.

This poem from me…poem

that I’ve wanted to write!

A sudden relief fills my head!

I’m with my doubts, in which I’ll die

alone, and be called the ogre of the day.

Anyhow, here is a poem from me to

you…mothers (or parents) have forgotten

in which they only send me grief.

Ay, a poem that so many times have

I avoid writing, now saves me from

a pretentious world, which is too late

for them…for me, I’ve stop waiting.