Poem: Oh, you wretched soul
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,
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