Parrot

By Gaurav Udavant

She calls herself a parrot,

Anyone's slightest sound and she cannot bear it.

The slightest of flaw, forever ready to curse you with her sweet tongue,

What is perfect for her, no one has sung.

You enter the studio and a headache arrives,

Her spite crashes in, making you sleep deprived.

Stand close to her and your germs attack her,

It is not surprising if your positive talk goes blur.

Disrespect even for higher ups,

No one escapes her poison arrows,

It is only her habit to live like this,

So don't drown in sorrow.

Squash! Under his feet he crushes her in everyday dreams,

Waking up in the morning his face gleams.

By Gaurav Udavant