I’m a discarded drop out,
No more a wise student,
But a lad left in the street.
Facing none else to greet.

When I was a child,
I wasn’t in the mind,
Of my mother unkind,
To me she was blind.

Her daily breast-feed,
As a new born child,
I was by her denied
For her selfish end.

She was afraid thereby,
That her breast lovely,
Might lose the beauty,
And cause a worry.

A hired maid to foster
Was to take all the care,
But she didn’t also bother
For my needs, whatever.

Whenever I cried,
For my mother’s feed,
I was bottle-milk fed
By the servant maid.

I was kept on sleep,
To silence my weep,
With a drug dose drop
By the maid, fed up.

There the drug started,
And till date it played
Havoc o’er my mind.
I’m honored as its friend.

About my wonderful father,
Less spoken, it’s better.
He was ahead of my mother,
For any late night get together.

Born rich was my dad,
But he lived like a fad,
Who wasn’t well satisfied
With whatever he had?

His fast life ran in hurry,
To earn more money,
For his wife to satisfy,
Which kept him ever busy.

It is no matter of fun,
If I lived like an orphan,
As I’ve never seen,
Their love for me so keen.

It was in a remote park,
One night it was dark,
A girl behind my back
Invited me for a talk.

We talked over the night,
None coming near our sight,
And I found out at last,
She was another drop out.

Her sickly mother died,
When she was a child,
And her drunkard father,
Didn’t care for her future.

I heard her personal story.
She heard my brief history.
We became friends then,
Thus our unwed life began.

They call us hippies,
Or carefree nomads,
But why let our parents,
Not to share these names?

The love or kindness,
Had our parents given us,
Will these wretched streets,
Would have housed us?

We wish even our enemies,
Not a broken life like us.
My prayer to the Parents,
“Care more for your kids”

Show at least as much love,
As for the rose plants you give,
To the kids of your own blood,
To brighten their future good.