I don't want to sell,
I wish not to have sold at all.
Religion is useless...
Spiky-Hats, pointy-things, death.
I am not a salesman,
Two broken teeth from a perfect cavity
Wrapped in her blue handkerchief
Jumping and skipping, defying gravity
Down the dingy lane, with an orange leaf
Bored of walking, she used the spare tyre
Cramped into it, she spun her own world
Along came the dogs, howling louder than fire
Down the dingy lane, now really wanting to hurl
After what felt like a lifetime, the spinning hushed
She stood up, looking for her hanky with eyes wild
An old man found it, grabbed her hand & her face flushed
Down the dingy lane, with missing front teeth, he smiled.
Bad attitude is like a flat Tyre
It will leave you stranded*
© Amitav (Radiance)
— The End —