PAPA AND I (part-1)

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(A discontented son)

Papa, why are we not rich ?
We seem like morons, the life
with a glitch.
My conscience feels disgraced,
“Why I have no iPhone” feeling
suppressed.

Papa I don’t want to go to college
anymore,
“You possess no credit card” mocks that bloody whore.
I followed her everywhere like
a lunatic lover boy,
But she opted for a rich kid and
then my heart was like a broken
toy.

Papa, my miserable apparel
and my cheap sunglasses,
My second-rate gadgets
and my tawdry watches.

Papa, sometimes I look at
my classmates admiringly,
and sometimes surprisingly.
Some times I watch them
enviously
and sometimes lamentedly.

Papa, I hate you so much,
For the gutteral life you gave me.
I don’t want to be a worm,
a shoelace;
I blame you because in your
times, you proved yourself
a loser in every race.

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