The baby conundrumA Poem by amarlakshjust read on
Ere a torrent of simpers
filthy, a scab sat in chair small. Shabby clothes, with limbs muddy, a humid face and a yanky yawl. With murderous eyes now and then. Snared his pupil all around. They adore, smile , and even bend, to see him more, got to ground. They say him cute and beautiful. but oh i knew, and knew good! What a waste he was, really ungraceful. And where he stood! To my brain if asked by, should be sent with his age? Certainly to somewhere far by, to some zoo, circus or a cage. And then we would be free of this wicked trotter, but what of me! 'play with uncle,boy' uttered his mother! ---- amar laksh © 2012 amarlakshAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthoramarlakshAgra, Atheist, IndiaAboutWell i am just a seventeen year old creative kid who likes to read and write more..Writing
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