• A human male of the weaker sex
    opens up his room and looks upon
    the sprawling world below that, so complex,
    remains so simple.

    With sand beneath his eyelids, he looks on
    as nothing happens right before his eyes.
    There was a bird, but now that it has gone,
    the trees are now still.

    The poppler branches quiver at the skies,
    or what is left: with buildings standing ill,
    set scratching air whilst turn-coat breezes cry.
    The boy feels the cold.

    The breezes came from houses on the hill
    that left their doors wide shut (to kill the noise).
    Instead the boy sits cold and frozen still;
    He alone hears it.

    A human male of the weaker sex
    returns back to his room, back to his fears,
    and once where all the questions were complex,
    they're now so simple.