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Story of me

Frankly
I am not Gautham(nick name)
I am Babu(given name)

Amateur writer

Am waiting for
A meaning of life

this was my dream

Not at all satisfied
And convinced
With my work
Here

Credits to all my
Inspirations
Especially
Joe cole
Elizabeth squires
Pradip chattopadhyay
Marian(her family Hilda,Timothy)
Venusoul
There are more
Sorry for my disability
couldn't mention everyone
By name
Sorry
It's very difficult for a
Person like me to write
About Myself
 Sep 2014 Kennedy Woodard
Jacob
I don't know why people
Strive for perfection
Or how easy it is for some
All I know is that I can't stand it.

When I try,
My body flares up like bombs--
Internally, never externally--
And hides my true colors
To create a cascade of catastrophe
It's like living in a ******* up world
The only difference is that
I actually get to block it out.

I don't remember waking up in the morning
With a smile on my little innocent face
And thinking about how easily I had it
It's too late now, I suppose, to care
Yet I still do.

Have you ever tried to write a poem
On the back of a pack of matches?
Have you ever cried for nights
Til you couldn't breathe?
It's all about you and never about me
And that makes the tears fall for days
Try this.
I once knew a watch-thief
Who stole for his own
He wasted the time that he
Stole on the road
But this gypsy boy finds
A young girl one day
With a garland of flowers
And a red satin waist

She came from the highway
That led to the city
Her garments conveyed
She was wealthy and pretty
The gypsy boy wore
Some old slacks and no shirt
And he would not have seen her,
But she introduced herself first

Before hellos were said
Or greetings exchanged
Years later he said
He could feel something change
As she told him of ease
That she left behind
He fell to his knees
And praised God’s good design

If love is a lifetime,
Then lend me your hand.
The sparrows are witness
That my promise stands
And now our gypsy wagon
Is off down the road
And we’ll never stop moving
Cause this is our home.

This small band of gypsies,
Now larger by one
Trundle the pathways
and roads they call home
The watch-thief reclines
with his girl in his arms
they fall quickly in love
‘Neath the light of the stars.

But if hindsight goes further
And time teaches true
There was blood in the water,
If only he knew.
She came down to his level
But took it too far
She went too far in revel
And slowly, she broke the boy’s heart.

The gypsy boy stood,
Still stock still in his shock
He ducked under the hood
Of his caravan-rock
He walked back to the city
She’d said she was from
He put it in a bag
And he drank in the slums.

If love is a lifetime,
Then when will you come?
The sparrows, our witness,
flew too close to the sun
And now my gypsy wagon
Is off down the road
And now I’ve nowhere to go
because you were my home.

— The End —