My Snatched Blood

Beneath the cold glare of the desolate night, And from a thousand miles away, I heard her cries and felt the fathomless depths of suffering Tearing her wounded soul and bruised emotions apart. I collapsed into a dreary and hysterical depression, 'Cause the blood that runs in me, Is the same that I ejaculated for her procreation. She is my daughter! And I love her more than life itself. Her mother took her away and couldn’t stay with me any longer, Because unemployment and hardship Had dwarfed my dreams and aspirations, Like a fiery exclamation of wrath and disdain, Leaving me with a harassing anxiety of sorrow, Destroying my propitious sky, marbled with pearly white. Many letters were penned and sent to her enatic home. As arbitrary as a cyclone and as killing as a pestilence, Their replies were fatal, Just as the fang of the most venomous snake. Today again, I heard her cries at the wake of dawn, Calling and asking “Dear father, when will you come for me?” But I couldn’t answer in any way. But deep down in me, I know she wants a life in the hands of a real man, And can no longer bear my ominous lull and silence, As well as the inscription labeled on her by the society ‘Bastard,’ But the cruelty of my circumstance couldn’t let me offer to her, That fatherly parenting and protection, Indeed, I’m into a painful and disconcerting deformity. I can’t find my daughter anymore, But can hear her cries and feel all the pains she got to bear. She is my snatched blood, Even at that, I’m criticized with unsparing vigor, In conditions of unspeakable humiliation.