Defeated

I surged, you bugged.
I rushed, you marched.
What you felt, and wept
Was not worth more than a cent.

He came with fame.
His accent was so tame.
Lame was his middle name.
But boy, he can entertain.

He was rich, and so I was ditched.
He owned a garden full of lychee.
And I owned not even a tiny string.
Yet, he had the guts of pouring his filth down my sink.

He was your billionaire
And myself I was, but a puppeteer.
I earned my money through wood and sticks.
He earned his with drugs and weeds.

The story of having you, one can tell.
Without money, I could not excel.
The thought of robbery and theft swinging through my cell.
My conscience kept reminding me, how bad was hell.

A defeat, and deceit has no receipt.
How bad, sad, and mad can a lad like me be.
I am, I was, and I will still be.
The truth is, you will never agree with me.

Written by; Najeeb.

Reviews

[Emily]

A very personal story, I can tell. Nice work!

[Pushkar Prabhat]

WoW!!!
beautiful........
very personal and passionate
honest and powerful....
amazing write....
i loved it!!!
:)

[R Smith]

brilliant Najeeb, i love the way this one flows along like a raging torrent, i read it at some pace and it just sizzle's with passion and anger too, a great work :)

[usman]

Thank you sir you like it.najib is an upcoming writer, so i guess his works will be recognised.
read moreThank you sir you like it.najib is an upcoming writer, so i guess his works will be recognised.

and above all my best friend.