my l’ll romanian friend

he is neither my child nor your inheritor.
she is not my daughter nor your dream.
so let them bleed.
devoid of any belonging.
brutalised of any emotion, that comes by
to us.
after all they are
                just biological indiscretions.
that we erase in uprightness.
swathe in the vacuum of our noble.
they are as put downable as coffee table talk.
n’ while we twist in our monetary trapeze.
our screened happiness. we forget that we
owe it to them.
our pleasures.
                our tomorrows.
our soul.
                n’ our scarce honesty.