WAIL NO MORE

O abandoned child,
In the dung-hill,
What have you come,
To fetch here all alone?

Your mouth is yet,
To ripe for speech,
But the agony and tears on you cheek,
Speaks you a banished fellow.

Is mother that doeth ye this,
Or your people forsake ye,
Are you unwanted to your paternal,
Or an abomination to the land?

Will you rot in this rubbish,
Waiting for a samaritan,
That may never come by,
Even when scavengers feast your flesh?

Rise on your feet!
Build up your world,
A unique eldorado,
And halt wailing on split milk.

this good