Isolated in a wet island
Deperate for attention,
You want your voice heard
But, nobody cares about you
anymore.
For all that you have done,
To innocent people and cultures
Your karma has come full circle,
Yobs, drug addicts, gangsters
Grow as your new generation.
Living like ants in termite mounds,
eating themselves to death
on benefits,
Claiming anything free as theirs.
Drinking more then their stomach
can fill.
But, still having guts to complain,
about rest of the world,
For all your problems blame others,
You preach to others,
when hangs in balance,
your own fate
About the sun you complain,
also about wet weather
and rain,
about the few good men that remain.
Time is not far,
when, forever you will
go into oblivion,
Meet the same fate as,
aborigine and red Indian
CR VIKRAM.G.AARELLA
1/12/07
Rdnr
Vikram G. Aarella
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-country-of-losers/
