At 58

I am 58 I was forced to three wives That always feed on hate. My offspring are millions of lives Only united in sharing my cakes. I am 58 I can't feed my children at my age No, their elected elders won't let me to Despite the plenty, they are left with little. I am 58 Once a pride now a disgrace Greed of few turn my honour to shame Oh, my offsprings are disowning me everyday From their quest for greener pastures, they return to me in chains. I am 58 Every first of October they gather to celebrate me Then abandon my dirts to beautify my competitors' At my age, I am still a dumping ground; a land of generators.