It breaks my heart to see you
Standing there by the pavement
Your eyes calling out to me
Your hands, they would’ve grabbed me
If they could.
Your eyes I dare not meet them
For they will tell me your pain
Moist with tiny red veins
Your hands, they would’ve grabbed me
If they could.
Grabbed it out of desperation
But the motions are giving way
To toil and hard labour
To age and illness
Wrinkled by the years.
You push the paper in my hands
Discounts, handbags, freehold land
Give them, give them
Give them to me.
That I may throw them
And set you free.
Wan Phing Lim 