A family of eight was a mighty burden,

He couldn't always carry it with grace,

The sole earner as he was, yet he tried his best,

Sundays he'd drown his pain in his army quota,

Not that it pleased any of his offspring,

But they tolerated it to see a smile on him,

Fake as they knew it to be.

The mother cooked him the best she could,

She served him before everyone,

Even as her heart tore for her eight children.

The eldest left school to lighten the burden,

He counted money not his own at a shop,

It was hard not to be unfair in this unfair world,

Till today he's yoked to sufferings;

Then comes the fairy who found solace with friends,

Nothing at home moved her to joy or sorrow,

Today she baby sits someone she was never vowed to;

The third one's eyes never dried of tears,

She offered herself as the lamb of sacrifice,

Today she has everything that the world offers,

But not love that her loveless family offers;

Then there was the scheming plotting one,

She found favor with a man of art,

And that was when the spirits of Sunday ended forever,

Then there was the sly one,

He was destined for greater things he vowed,

Sweet talker silent killer lived by the whims,

Today thousands miles away a happy family man;

At five is the looker, the beauty and no brains,

Wed to a politician who's wed to politics,

She now struggles to fend for five kids and herself,

The fairest of all comes with a heart of gold,

A five year old at heart even today,

The final born a bane to the bone,

Deprived everyone of peace and privileges,

Even as adult claims his rights and privileges.

The mother had seen it all on her sick bed,

And then she went an unfulfilled soul,

They still attempt to revisit her dreams,

They still wish they were in those crammed rooms,

Fighting over some left over food,

Their eyes shone with hunger then, and now.