Sonnet # 14

With tears on his face you can have child,
No hands to clean the sadness of his life;
His hardship, suffering in pain quite wild
For his heart`s and mind`s strife through eyes a knife.
You can have a girl in hate with her dreams
Which have become the color of her skin.
Then through her mouth blood when she sadly screams
Wich without mercy seems much like a din.
You can have things in horror out of word;
Still quite small with the sadness of my brain.
I have in my blood a cut throat- eyeless bird.
No firmament to calm my thirst has rain.
I suffer and call my thick tears, "Yes ma`am!"
The pain the wind does slam with hate I am!