Whatsoever it is you love the best
however, in a word, may not make sense
as when psychology asks you to flee
travel far, far away from all the rest
so you are unable to be present
only in exceptional cases whence
even the death of your dad, pitaji
violent in humor, he died alone
ever aware of the unsaid, he meant
rivers flow backwards to their origin
in your world, this is all, beyond conceit
to do your work, put in your hours, drink gin
if duty calls, ignore the voice, defeat
succumbs to propriety, ash and bone
yet the rest of the world care much too much
only too willing to argue the facts
under the circumstances, you abscond
leave in a rush, as soon as you can, such
overt appeals to family is lies
violence left you scarred, shell-shocked, the axe
ever-present in your mind, cut the bond
take me on a journey beyond your past
however, you seem set with freedom fries
each day you live in this country, you push
bitter memories in a box, you locked
energy swells and dissipates, the rush
seems to reach entropy, stillness, you blocked
the best out to savor what cannot last
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