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Have Heart
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The Same Son
Sisters starving, brothers begging.
Mothers mourning, fathers folding
When I look in the mirror I see：
A boy not a man
the son of a father I refuse to understand
the 'brother' of a brother like a wound I neglect
the coward of a sister with the world I forget
the prodigal son, but I am yet to return
from a siege where I take refuge but I want to watch burn
your lover, your companion, your champion, your friend
forever by your side but not in the end
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The fortunate son who dwells in the city,
with the poorest of the poor, still, I ask for your pity
and while there's a man who sleeps on the ice-cold streets
his godsend not in me, but in his cardboard: his sheets
yet
I still see the same son.
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