It isn’t fair of frame.
There must have been a day
You wiped drool from my face
And I’m not there to do the same.

It isn’t sound.
You must have stooped to ground
When I toddled down
Below the crowds.

It stands askew.
Before I ate solid foods,
I subsisted off you
And who leads you through?

It’s enough cost:
The years we’ve lost
After the bottles were tossed
And before your vigor exhausted.

It totters in the wind.
Inequalities sting like sin-
Yours or mine, I can’t defend-
But I see all that’s bent

And bowed low.