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 face of their son,
There is a reason to stay, their 4 year old anthem
They don’t talk, they don’t sleep, nor laugh or sit together
Mornings are crucial so they leave home for the better
The mother visits a day care while she attends her work
And smiles at the guy who compliments her quirk
We find ourselves a little less lost in the most unusual places.
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