Though my mouth is tiny winy,
But my words will not be same,
O lord! Give me some power,
Feeling here as if I am person lame...
In the name of my future,
You chucked my childhood far away,
Though my shell has become tough,
My inner self is still wet-clay...
I've been treated like a robot,
Given no freedom to enjoy my way,
Yes I laugh too often here,
Just to suppress my tears all day...
It's been to me a prettified jail,
A fast track highway touching deep dale,
All I can send from here to you,
My tears, my feelings by posting a mail...
From the purest string of all relations,
You never produced melodious music,
Instead you produced fake self-esteem,
Only to fulfill your own-sown dream...
All I wait for the month of may,
Summer holidays- all they say,
The actual time when my dreams come true,
After prolonged patience and pray...
With you I want to spend a day,
With your parenting- I want to play,
Let me explore the land near you,
Let me discover my internal gay...
No punishment is so severe,
But to stay away from home,
No more torture I could bear,
I need you- Dad & Mom...
One day your seed will become a fruit,
After all you gave it a fertilizer-like treat,
But have you ever wondered- my dear parents,
This fruit would then be bitter or sweet?
- Monu Awalla
