Oh, you wretched soul,

You scream and you shout and you mock me,

but you know not how,

a country is built, from sampans to skylines

You sit in front of your

sorry screen, typing tirades against

the ghosts of your ineptitude,

the regrets of your childhood,

when you chose machas and ah lians

over teachers and ten-years

You finger me, but the answer lies

in front of you, with your screen turned off,

and your pride pressed deep,

into your mud-stained Bata,

dirtied in drains then

masked with paint

But truly white, you’ll never be

and truly shrug, I never will

Behold my elite, caring face

Oh, you wretched soul

~

Oh, you wretched soul,

Shallow’ed be your bowl,

Hallowed be my bowl,

Yours iron, mine gold,

Hallowed be my bowl

~

Oh, you wretched soul,

You say you deserve more, Continue reading “Poem: Oh, you wretched soul”