a poem by Priya James

I came into the world, with a cry in my lips,
I knew not anyone, only they knew me,
They became my dears.
I grew up, a cry still my favourite, it shattered their peace,
But I gleamed at the glory it endowed upon me.
They dressed up and left me,
They were busy and I messed up,
They replaced themselves and I missed them.
I met the toys, the power of money.

They taught me the first four letters,
Then the stick ran down my flesh.
Education wounded me,
As they put me the race for money.

They engaged my list of friends,
Then I blued in loneliness.
Friends wounded me,
As they joined the race for money.

They moulded my career,
I experienced the agony of discrimination.
Pride wounded me,
I experienced the power of money

They built the steps for their ambition,
I failed my duties.
Life wounded me,
As I joined the race for money.