Even though one's self broader,
Whitman's wits i see no longer,
For the after taste of sunburn mist ,
Makes this life much easier in fits,
why am i still just a mother?,
Why are the chains still locked longer?,
I'm sorry dear mother in law,
If I couldn't cater to your son's needs,
Even i had dreams of becoming a poet,
when that finds no value in the house,
I feel it unfair to be devoted to him,
And I'm no longer a poets shade,
Crowded indeed are the fleshes,
For what walt ones spoke,
In my life finds no shelter,
Thus how am i at stake?,
And how am i the mistake?!