To Critics and Observers

Imperfect Plangnan from pain,
You stood your grounds to dim lights.
Those sights and sounds did hurt you,
I observed tears poured those nights.

This room hurried in silence
and made jest of your troubles.
Curse is a room for critics
those observers in doubles.

Be free Dear for tomorrow
Hold out your heart and laugh wide.
You’ve won the bets of the gods
Imperfect Plangnan from pain

Ruddapoet