What kindness will never say

I will not touch the veil of a glutton
or say sad stories of what couldn’t wait.
This is mine and I am fine,

If of all, the rain can still pour
then the seeds will feed everyone alive.
I am of this home, the song and the bone

I am of no color, sound or person
a thing that tied around your neck,
If royalty exists, then we’re brothers.

I know what I will say
I am a gift of everyday
Twelve notes will chant of my name

Only if this page is a curtain of old.

Ruddapoet