trouble and blame, the reason I was last
my struggle with Kak-handed ways
non-ability to learn and play; in a band
feckless or thick, people would say
unable to join in a team to play
thought; no one wanted me in, every day
low in esteem, useless though keen
never realising what could have been
having inner intellect
openly stupid; what others saw
under a cloud of dark misty swirls of war
no one likes a boy; quiet and meak
softly gentle, who appears very weak
yet, an internal strength, that could not speak
wishing to be dead for so many years
a thousand hurts with too many tears
yet, many reasons to happily cheer
children for one, grandchildren too
a wish to unravel a mind to chew
concoction of worries in a blended stew
it’s a little too late, discovery is found
a confident twit, whose mind is not sound
have to keep going with feet on the ground
cannot promise much but to be around
until a cure comes late, yet somehow found
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