My Mother Will Not Curse Me

Mother, your insanity is my blessing! Your cry, like a creaking door, Opens to a lawn of sour, Your eyes, like a flame of candle, Pierce to my heart that fails to handle. And, your insanity is my blessing! Because, I am not a son of your dream, The essence that dripped out of the cream, The life that burns as a wooden window, The deep woods that drenched with heavy shadow, Mother, I am not a son of your dream. The dream of becoming a morning dew, A song that moves a failing crew, A dawn, a dusk and a poem with lovely words, A canoe in search of unknown world, And, I am not a son of your dream. See, I am a warrior of a loosing battle, The blood was washed through the rains that clatter, I see the children playing on the streets, I do not know, is it sickle or flowers for them to treat? I am not a son of your dream and still away from your curse, Mother, your insanity is my blessing!.