My rights..

My parents take me to the Malls one after another,
Where I have seen local people and foreigners,
Young boys and girls hug and kiss each other, while shopping,
My parents did not bother to notice what I am watching,
Every Sunday we visit the Malls to shop and roam,
Until our legs are tired and then only we come back home,
Exam is nearer and I am grounded with books and tuition,
Outing, entertainment and TV all out of reach,
My father, a professional, wants me to excel,
My professional mother prays for me to succeed,
Both of them try to educate me as much as possible,
Even they may think of programming the brain of their child,
I am not as excellent as them and I want to practice,
How I was brought up. But they scold and curse,
That I am rebellious, not cultured and loose.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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