In the hands of Destiny,
Her baby boy,
Became a toy;
His step-father
had a ploy,
“Used the child
to realize, his
own end,
Money,”
She was a broken heart
not enough smart
to protect the child,
her kid;
Wept alone,
in her
bed-room
captive;
“This man
from Dublin,”
the mother
married again,
pure family reason;
When the son was
of an age, tender fifteen;
An eager, young adolescent;
In the month of an autumnal start,
Affectionately she thought,
another chance to take;
On Sept Seven, “Gift
a new father,”
as a Birthday
Present;
Would be
“joy and fun
for her dear son,”
Single, independent young, with an income
She got sold, on a sibling-vision-plan;
Accepted their wish, of well being;
For mother and son,
“arranged marriage,
adoption,”
“Wrong
and incorrect”
her decision; the step-father,
misguided him; inexperienced son;
Innocent teen, stripped off a good name;
Deplorable horror scenes, at life’s, new begin;
Child’s glory into shame because his mother had
Maintained, ‘no entertain,’ for the husband’s
Imposing ex-woman, a Belgian;
She would now, again,
forcefully drop in
as a friend
poison the mind
of her husband, often,
to upset her domestic routine;
On occasions Sabrina and he settled, for long drinks;
In pleasure, both touched one another, completely ignoring her existence!
“Oh! The awfully ignoble NRI to deceive,
a dutiful wife, writhing in pain of utter wretchedness.”