Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Golden Child

Oh you, you poor child
With your pride not even mild
Standing there patronizing me
Your ego is as big as your belly

You, the Golden Son
The favorite of Dad and Mom
The never wrong, never submit
The always right, always throwing fit

I'm so mad at you, dear Wasted Punk
I even took time to write this junk
The least I could do to channel my anger
Since Mom and Dad never dare to even lay a finger

You, you wasted troll
An egomaniac, proud soul
Everyone suffers to please you
While you sit still with nothing to do

You, you should be looking after me
If Mom and Dad are gone, will thee?
But sadly I see nothing good soon
Not until God breaks your hard-headed cocoon

Golden Child, stop with the sighs
See your children through their eyes
Swallow your pride and shine through
Be someone at least to YOU

The Fallen Child
February 23, 2010
11.41 p.m.

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