my old age love, my urge to hear
a little music in human laughter
for my frail body to do my final dance
made me blind to the world’s taste
but what caused your blindness
making you bite the hand that fed
day and night as you were nestled
in that heart you kick now to bleed
and what triggered a pile up of wax
to the point of deafness in your soul
too, stubbornly refusing an active feel
of my humanness, brokenness, my need
© henry victor 24.01.2018
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