There lived a man, therein was also child -
A village was a place for him to dwell;
A patch of land between Asgard and hell -
The grass was acid-green, the climbate mild.
There was a family of which has was a seed -
A drunken grandpa, single mom and dad
Who was as frequent there as if were dead;
Yet, life fled smoothly by and calm, indeed.
There was a Bible, therein was also God -
Religious aunt predestined to abide
Nearby his mother when she early died;
Aunt was a spinster, stern, aloof and odd.
There lived a myriad of all the sorts of cats -
A swarm of animals enslaved inside the yard;
A piece of light in smoky window-shard
Was all they saw until the springly buds.
Thus, life was like a smoothie in a jail -
The child kept roaming ‘bandoned on its own;
A tiny mannequin, forsaken weirdo clone -
The one of those who’s dubbed to fail.
There was a day, there also was a night -
The grandma kneeling for a pray to die;
The grandpa in a spiralling decline -
Both perishing in winter sunlight rye.
As years went by, the child was fleshing out
Surmounting every hill he was to mount,
Though there was really nothing to surmount -
He was a hole upon a hole in which to shout.
It seems there was a smidgen of a sense -
The village, broken family, the dreams
And all the stuff which somehow always seems
And looms so large while being a shiny pence.
Thus, every day and every night he had
And yet to have as long as breathing in -
Through having lost his nearly every kin,
If thought reversely doesn’t seem so bad.
There lives a man, therein is also child -
A host of memories to stack upon the spine,
Forever reminiscing nine to five -
The child in me is all I left behind.