Thursday 8 September 2011

The story of the Red Nail Paint

The place I was born was as unknown then
As it is now to me,
You ask "So why do you decide to pen"
"If you don't know this, silly ?"
But what would I do if my mommy,
Herself had no clue.
She left me in this place named Tommy,
Hilfiger known by few!


Picked, dumped, dazzled, hassled,
Every time, opened eyes to see myself shackled
Sometimes saw no light for days,
Does the Sun really have rays?


By big glassy windows was I kept,
Laying there like a vegetable inept.
Ladies, young and clad-young, walked by,
And I kept wondering why that "Sigh".


Some thither and gave me a look, so close
At times was conscious and other times got a marijuana dose!
The good days were not to be forever, I learnt,
The separation from the counter girl, my heart burnt.


Again packed, wrapped, thrown and sacked,
Drifted in a gush, so strong, compassion lacked.
The new place had no window, no velvet to lay,
A box so cold and plastic, that I even heard a donkey bray!


As days passed, I got sure, I was here now for eternity,
Like others in the box, old, brazened, of my fraternity.


And then one day they hopped along,
Just chirpy and bubbly, like a Scottish song.
They picked me over the others and saw how I performed,
"Oh take me home, please take me now, I am perfect, not deformed."


Prayers heard at last, I was somewhere I could call home,
She was lanky, tardy and sometimes even wore dresses Chrome!
Nevertheless, I was her first and I loved it that way,
Clueless! She gave me looks but had nothing to say.


The gong had struck and she picked me to play with,
I would finally know who I am, surrendering to no myth.
When on her nails finally, my past didn't matter,
Now sunken in my truth, no change of seasons, me deter.