Sore of heart – VII

And I realized what I miss,

Affectionate hug, and

On my cheeks, a loving kiss.

Devoid of care,

Burdened with parentage,

I regret being born.

My attribute are falling,

And labelled,

                        feet of peacock; scorn.

They do; and then underline,

Admit I am indebted, but even in absence

Would’ve done pretty fine.

Rape my conscience, you

Say I care,

Leave or let me go,

Don’t come nor let me come near.