To the Mother shaking head to her son's cries
watching anxiety and pains glints like fireflies
retying the knots of her blue-turned-black wrapper
as she meandered on dreams higher than skyscraper

Can you listen to this song I am about to sing?
You have 12 lives to live no matter how life stings.

To the Boy on his swing of loneliness
mending his worn out trousers of dreariness
on curvy slopes he tripped over years ago
whilst trying to lift the burden behind his ego

Can you take your time to read whatever I write?
You have 12 lives to live no matter how life bites.

To the Girl on her pyjamas of pains
waiting to wash away the blood when it rains
the claws of predators on her silky skin
and the miseries she swept into sticky bin

Can you walk out of your hollowed lair?
12 Lives are fabricated for you, so live with care.

To the Father on his superhero expression
basking in muddy pool of depression
overdosed drugs,green bottles and flying flames
shuddering to life theories and wrying blames.

Can you perceive the scents of this words?
You have 12 strings left in your life chords.

To the blood behind this bleeding pen
and the eyes trailing the loose lines like a hen
I and YOU still have creamy butters in our jars
Let's eat breads while reckoning our visible scars.