THE UN-MATCHING BLOOD

SCENE 1
It was a beautiful bright night,

The moon shining to it's fullest,

The howling dogs gave many a fright,

And I was planning to take some rest.

I was a little worried about my son,

Whom I had not seen since a week,

He was at his friend's place, studying and having fun,

The chances of him coming now were bleak.

It was a long time since we had spoken to one another,

About a month had passed since the fight,

And the person suffering the most was his mother,

Since, she could not decide who was right.

With each passing night tears welled up in my eyes,

As I thought about him, my only child,

No matter how much to correct him I would try,

His immaturity & ignorance made him go wild.

Just as my eyes had begun to swell,

I heard a shriek that I seemed to recognize well,

I ran out into my large balcony,

From there I could see a young lad getting beaten wildly.

The young man getting beaten, looked like my son,

But, from such a distance and my teary eye I could not be sure,

So, in a minute, I was outside the door and began to run,

With the hope to save the person I most adore.

As I reached nearer, I felt relieved,

'cause, it was not my son who was being hit,

They were some drunkards I believe,

Still, I requested the larger one to stop it.

SCENE 2

As he moved towards his house,

His thoughts dark, but the night still bright,

He didn't care much for either, his mother or her spouse,

And, was completely prepared for another big fight.

As soon as he entered his street,

He saw two men sprawled over the ground,

He could not believe what his eyes could meet,

One was his father and the other some drunken clown.

His father's skull had been cracked,

And he lay there in a critical stage,

Looking at the blood on the ground, he was taken aback,

Then a smile crossed his face and he forgot his earlier rage.

He stood there, watching his father die,

His smile widening with every moan,

The old man could not open even a single eye,

All he could do was just twist and groan.

His only wish was to see his son one last time,

The son wished, this would be the last time his father he would

see,

And then as he bent over to admire the crime,

He too, was hit on his head twice heavily.

On this bright night, the dark red blood, glowed with a

twinkle,

The drunkard having played his bloody game,

The father & the son's blood began to mingle,

But the irony was, though it was same, yet it was not the same.