your slum is my home
Don’t give that look because I’m used to it or you can say it hardly bothers me.
Why me, why not you.
Even I was inside the dark world for nine long months;
Even my mom bored the pain, then why only me?
You say you are hungry and you get burgers, I put my hands forward and say I’m starving;
“Get-off”, that’s what I get to eat.
You complain about the color of your cardigan and I hardy posses a rag to cover my bare carcass.
A tear roll down and your cheek is covered with kisses;
I keep screaming and I get kicks rather.
Every morning I get upset to know I’m still viable and then it’s time for me to get into the real world.
You do nothing and get everything, I travail day and night and at the end of the day I get to hear that I’m a ‘phony’.
I deserve more than you, still I beg you.
You call me ‘moron’ and you get everything.
I might never have flown in an aircraft but in my dreams I have zoomed higher than you in the clouds.
So Don’t Give That Look, I Don’t Deserve It.
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