Hardworking father, sacrificing mother,
Together raising their children,
Within the poor family,
They had their own heaven.
Rich relatives, enough to make you blink,
All you can do, is nothing but think,
Of "What was my fault?" in the situation you're in,
Inferiority running under your skin.
You weep, you sob,
You feel alone within a mob,
Being ignored gets embedded in your memory,
All you do, is try to say "goodbye".
They have everything, you envy,
Pretending you're okay, is just your predilection.
You know you're not okay, and you're sorry,
Even when you're wrong nowhere.
Wheel rotates, feet come front alternatively,
Time is wheel too, ups and downs,
Hoping for a change, will never stop,
We expect the almighty to give us strength.
— Shantanu Shubham
No comments:
Post a Comment