Ye were hewed from the rib of imperfection,

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

I cant rub thee of my memory lane,

So why should I cover the oh pain,

It’s too hard to bear the seclusion,

Too taxing to live in thy domain.

Your venom is worse than snake bite,

To bitter thy deeds to explain,

Ye strike a man in his prime,

Shattering his dreams to shame.

Thy stained are numerous,

More than sword can ever boast,

Those who are doomed for disaster,

Just land in thy port.

None who enters thy path can ever escape,

Ye rob him of his dignity his life,

Those who enter thy path of deception,

Are in for a permanent slide.

On those whom ye bestow honour,

Ye bestow it with a prejudiced mind,

Ye know what pay in future,

Ye know what shall suffice.

Ye were hewn from the rib of imperfection so great

Imperfection, imperfection so great,

See thy plundered mourn and wail,

See thy plundered mourn and wail.