A point to prove

So a friend told me i suck at poetry
Well im writing this to prove him wrong
.
.
.
.

Sitting in that cage of amber and gold
Putting down meters while slowly growing old

He’s feeling blue just like his adornments
Politeness and grace are long lost ornaments

His face is withered with no sense of humour
Honesty hurts his job like an Apathetic tumour

He waits until he finds his match and settles for a fee
He travels around the world , he hates this city

He rides the city’s veins
He runs down its drains
He is the definition of needy
His chariot defines shady

He lies his way to earn himself half a meal
Everyone earns the same way it is not a big deal

He runs on money ,
He will take you across hell ,
He will not talk to you ,
Wont let you in his shell .

He’s not your friend, he deals in greed
Nobody respects him For his employment is based on need

So he waits at the signal for someone till he gets his fits
Its his son’s birthday in a few days who do you think is gonna buy him the gifts.

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