From the obscurity of my mind
Springs wondrous thoughts
Hammering immensely on the
Perturbed mind that bleeds sweats of discomfiture.
For my mother do I cry?
No, for the world!
The world of double standards
Filled with illusory promises
Where, like carving, corruption
Is sculpted with pen.
The rich with it grows
The poor withers away.
In a...