He is no more than 4, but no one can tell That amongst all the fanciest, he owns the costliest cell And from the look of things, there is no shame on her face- The mother just smiles, though somehow out of place Stares and admiration, as she struts down to work Two layers of makeup add to her quirk And from the look of things, there is no shame on his face- The man who secretly likes her, always out of place He tips his hat as she passes by And returns as a butler in the mansion of a rich guy And from the look of things, there is no kindness in her eye- The widow of the billionaire out of place inside- She cries in satin tissues; could never become a mother As servants tend to her desires, she realizes she has no one to love her And from the look of things, there is gratitude on his face- The man who is her lawyer, wants only to take her place He wishes cruel curses and waits for time to turn But at home, the cheeks of his wife let teardrops burn She mistook him for a lover, but on the...
This is a personal blog about my thoughts, opinions and realizations.They are all part of growing up. I do not consider myself growing old however, and insist against the conventions of time, to continue calling myself young, hence the name of this blog. Hope you see through it what I saw to tell :)