O I wonder,wither art thine
Pity thou preached about.
Talk not as if I chose to be poor.
Talk not as if a choice hath I
Yet chose poverty.
O swooned I am.
O abhorred I am ever since a suckling.
None shew no mercy.
O those sleeked brushed hair I desired ever since a suckling
Yet I never once grumbled.
Pray tell me,
O rich one,
thou shall vow this.
Languish not my try
My try in accepting myself
If thou failed to pity
Worry not.
Neither weep nor be grieved.
Just do not talk,
Talk like I chose,
Chose not to be born rich.
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To You(my Dear World)[#TheWattys2017]#TEAwards
PoetryHighestRank #5[13-4-17] "my love, I will be your west So you can lay and rest When you've shined enough and dusk wins and there's no more strength to shine some more. ⭐"Do not laugh at a poor coat. Lest the rich heart inside it laugh at your poor he...
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