What is hidden inside your bald, shaved head?
Do you hide nothing behind your violent façade?
Could you be a starving monk shouldering a day job, to contemplate by night?
Why does no one bring you food and all the sustenance a man needs?
And why, if I may ask, did you become a monk in the first place?
Did you inherit a temple, or had you an experience so devastating beyond my, or anyone's, comprehension?
Perhaps I am making unwanted waves in the reflections of your happy face, which you had directed not at me, but at the children, your customers.
No comments:
Post a Comment