Let me tell you today,
the story of a man;
Sick and miserable
and arrogant little tramp.
He walked in his world
with a head held high;
Filled with the air,
from his lonely little sky-fortress.
He’d act like a king,
for money he had.
But a loveless little child,
rejected and sad.
He’d alienate his friends,
and show them up;
While drinking his wine
as he raised his stained cup.
An entrepreneur he was,
or so he’d claim;
While he disrespected his colleagues,
and his mother, the same!
An ugly little liar,
a wretch he was;
Walking in his rain,
no purpose, nor cause.
A man I respected,
before I knew;
The prick he was,
derelict, desolate shrew.
This frail little egotistic,
rotten little cunt;
Would make everyone as miserable
as he was, the runt.
I’m saddened today
as I see him with pity;
Who once was my mentor,
the lonely child of misery.
By: Viraj Belgaonkar
