Sitting in my chair, 

My life Is bland.

The mental breakdown is near

Then I saw the face of my son.

Pillow between us for years,

For once, she doesn't think about my needs

But I should think about hers,

As she's the one who every month bleeds.

And I'm an husband,

A man should be strong and shall not cry,

Though I'm not planning to as my eyes went dry.

Once there was love 

When she used to call me dear,

But now there is no trust,

Only an agreement and fear,

What will happen to them?

So we are just left with blame.

For me weekends were good

But now those are unbearable,

As she is always rude.

Mon-Fri is also no good.

I don’t blame her for anything though.

Yes, she blames me,

And in anger, I call her hoe.

But not from my heart,

As believe it or not I still love her.

That’s why we are not apart. 

Does she love me?

Maybe, as she also bearing me.

But I really don’t know.

Once we both had dreams,

I wanted a post of power,

She wanted to become an actress

These days we only bring flowers,

In the graveyard where our dreams rest.

We are now the prisoners of this jail,

Which we have created.

That I love and hate.

Every day is bland

There is no reason left to live

Except for my son, 

And my daughter, who’s still in the belly

To see them happy and bursting with glee. 

I have taken refuge in them,

Maybe they will also betray one day

Till then let me live

And like this, let my hair turn grey.

Let my fate decide 

Be that as it may.


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