About Me

By Sabareesh. N

Who was born last,

Always gets cross,

Who is rejected for friendship,

And not good at leadership,

Who thinks he is the head,

But not even worth a pencil’s lead,

Who will not allow others to speak,

Has a mouth that leaks,

Who thinks he is the number one poet,

Even though he does not know a single line to create,

Who thinks he is the one to remember,

But is not even considered a member,

Who is mostly called a cashew nut.

It is correct, but

I am not rich and good like cashews,

Or popular enough to come in the news,

Who does not have talents,

Unlike his parents,

Who is not a topper in his class,

Like a shining glass,

Who acts as good,

Like a delicious coating on food,

Who will do the work of the lame,

And will always be a shame.

But I have a father who carries loads of pressure like a truck,

And a mother of hard work.

I have four sisters,

Who will roar for me,

Who are the pillars,

And the healers of my life.

I am the best

In the east and west.

I am smart

In the south and north.

I am bold,

Even to stay in a place as ice-cold.

I am the hero,

And my life’s zero.

I am Batman,

And the travelling van.

I am the Joker,

And a hard worker.

I am the hottest sun,

And the one who makes others fun.

I am the moon

In my noon.

I have one thing nevertheless:

I am the worst.

By Sabareesh. N