The Birthday Boy

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The kid ran out of his tiny room,

And into the crubmling hall,

His cadaverous mother sat there,

Next to his silent eyed dad. 

The kid could easily make out,

The saggy black circles around 

Their eyes. 

They were working harder than ever. 

He ripped open his shiny gift,

A remote controlled racing car!

Then, he promptly threw it, 

Right out the window. 

I don’t want these stupid gifts,

He proclaimed. What do you want? 

His weary mother asked.

To which he said,

I just want mommy and daddy to smile.

By Arjun Kramadhati

This is me. As Charles Bukowski would put it - born like this, born into this. I don't like to talk about myself. I am afraid this is all you are getting now. I like to express myself through my poems, and stories and very soon another novel. I love you, my darling reader. So read on.

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