I'm that boy who she wants as her toy,
But alas, I am defective as I'm a man now & not a boy,
So the kid got bored of trying to mould me.
She got bored of listening to wise advice,
Perhaps I was wrong on my part too in the end,
So no use ensuing the blame-game now.
I just accept it now,
I was born defective,
Accident just worsened me.
But if you sit calmly and think of it,
All the injury to my brain can heal,
Not the injury to my heart under a veil.
Broken, assaulted & assassinated,
I am time & again due to my errors,
I don't blame anyone for defects I made.
Of course, she says that she's busy with someone that gives her his full attention.
Well I can't do that sacrificing my career just for some momentary pleasure.
I don't think she'll ever grow up to suit my preferences.
Basic habits of eating, drinking and daily habits are a mismatch.
I am proud of my prose,
But I am not proud for whom it rose.
My HP Poem #940
©Atul Kaushal