Sympathy

Sympathy Who will bring this child come to fruition? Who will make a brotherhood of my disenchanted world? who will establish the foundation of my rootless race? Who will gather the seed of my busted calyx? Who will shine a light to path of my callow youth? Who will fill the void of this lamentable existence? This vagabond soul, When will this child crawl? Where will he begin? Homesteads is wailing in the hamlets heaping blames, City dwellers on the concrete sidewalks, With back against the wall heaping blames; O! death-songs to mourn oppressive rulers, O! deaf promise and fail politicians, O! scarce no-vacancy directors, O! seating non available chairman, All in the rolling refrigerated wheels, Splashing contempts and grim on the hopeless; Blame them for the lamentable tribulation.