I am the eldest son, raised in a home of scarcity,
My life, it seems, has been a poetic tale of sorrow since birth,
My existence was patched together long before I could choose.
In this unjust world, my only crime was to dream,
A crime it was to love you.
And you too, gave me the cruelest punishment.
I know not, in return,
Did you find any satisfaction?
Did you earn applause from many hands?
The heart had asked for nothing more than a little time, a moment’s company,
Yet in living through the brilliance of your gaze, I lost so much.
Even after returning all, I chased after you countless times.
I begged for your love’s grace like a beggar,
And see, how low I made myself fall.
Still, your light of mercy never touched my weary soul.
Even gazing upon the ruins of my shattered life,
You showed not a drop of pity,
Gave not even a shadow of love to soothe my tired heart.
You wished not that I love you, yet I did,
I wished that you love me, yet I never received that love.
We are both made of the same clay,
Why then such distance in the fates written with the same pen?
Though you refuse, I keep yearning for you still,
Why has this love made me so foolish, so naïve?