WHITHER dost thou farther, my child,
Of mindless ardor conceiv'd, my poor child;
For his moral poverty thou makest allowance,
And his social sanity thou losest thy chance.
A pity, a shame, alas! A careless passion!
Fractured as it seems; seemingly fractured gift,
A tragedy, an unborn name, alas! A careful execution!
Live as thou wish'd, and wish as thou live'd,
That th' morrow brings her morrow's grief.
Th' obvious fault is but a fault in obscurity,
Awaiting her devourer, th' deserv'd peace,
Ev'r restful, as she ought and thought to be.
Wellaway! Thine eyes, nose and limbs assumed,
Whither dost thou farther with an unwilling womb?
Copyright © Welsonn Goh | Year Posted 2013
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