By Subhadeep Santra
I was born with a silver spoon
And realized that too soon
I grew up a rich spoiled brat
Among cozy attire and fashionable hat
Expensive tie and watches that shine
I lived my childhood on cloud nine
Then I entered the naughty teenage
With a little mischief and little rage
I picked up altercations like a real desperado
Folded sleeves in act of sheer bravado
I claimed superiority because my dad earned well
And rest of the world could just go to hell
Then one day I drank to the throat
The legs shook and my stomach bloat
I drove the car a little bizarre
It crashed on cries ere it went too far
I stumbled on corpses that mourned pain
Ugly faces with blood and blain
I hear a police siren singing along my heart
I feel afraid as it goes on to repeat
They caught me. Yes! They put me to jail
From these absurdities I will soon abseil
My father was rich and powerful. None say him ‘NO’
I knew he would browbeat the cops to let me go
But alas! Luck this time was a little sinister
One among who died was the son of a minister
He happened to be there that day
‘Distributing blankets for charity’ they say
The minister was richer than my dad
And held an influence dad never had
God inflicted on my pride the hardest blows
Now I wait silently for the gallows
***
By Subhadeep Santra
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