Two sides of the same road, And I stand at the boundary, A side resplendent with joy and celebrations, Another dark with sorrow and suffering. A nippy November night, Calls out for sweaters and mufflers, And around a small fire, A brother grinds his teeth, As he battles between frigid winds and the warmth of his sister, All on two sides of the same road. A mother struggles with a picky eater, Another worries about picking something to eat, Hunger cries out everywhere, Somewhere it’s whet, somewhere it’s suppressed, All on two sides of the same road. A kid complains about school, The other stands at the gate peeking inside, Both are forced from their position, One away and the other towards, All on two sides of the same road. Fancy wines on the shelf, Serve as a good buster of stress, And in the corner of a hut, A drunkard’s wife fears every day, When her husband returns home with stress, All on two sides of the same road. A mind sighs at the repetitive s
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