They call it Spiritual.
They call it ethical.
They call it universal.
They call it motherly.
They call it mutual.
Shut your eyes and think of your tomorrow.
Shut your mouth and speak less of sorrow.
Take a bold step and aim forward.
You know your tomorrow.
September 1999, it all started in the green house of stitches and new comers’.
My cry filled the theater.
I was successfully born.
Like the three idiot’s.
Dad carried me and called me a doctor, mom looked at me and called me a nurse, leaving me with no choice of my own.
I grew up loving what I hate and forced to cherish what gives me agony.
Mom wants me to do her wish.
Dad wouldn’t let go off me.
They thought they were making me better, rather they were killing me within.
Call me dad!
For he couldn’t see my future.
Call me Mom!
For killing my tomorrow.
Chemistry was made my breakfast and biology was made my lunch. Physics was made my dinner, wish they made my choice the last supper.
Mom scolded me for failing,
Dad blasted me for repeating.
Have they forgotten I got an “A” in literature and a distinction in English.
They tore my essays and called them trash.
They tore my poems and swept them out.
They sold doughnuts with my story books and turned my drawing books to weed wrappers.
They wasted their money on tutors and paid millions on tuitions.
They took me to the best while I fall behind the rest.
Suddenly! Faith gained admission.
Mom could no longer watch me sit my ass at home.
Special center became my home and malpractice my half...