To constantly whine and wail.
To take all wallops.
To be driven by an unknown.
To be helpless.
To wobble.
To grunt all the way I tread.
I don't want to be a wheel.
But, sadly I'm one.
Being a wheel, I want to roll back to the dark cave.
To see the cave man who cut out a piece of round wood and rolled, far before Civilizations grew or Gods born.
To be along with my forefathers who pedalled the giant wheel of irrigation and self humiliation to feed Royal paunches; to see the tiny bubbles of sweat - in which thousands of tiny suns shone- they wiped out of their forehead, working under the blazing summer sun.
To tell my forefathers - We are still slaves of rich and I have waned to a rubber wheel reined by some.
To see a world I would never have been.
To beetle off all repugnant penance. (Done to me. Can I ?)
To leave my skin-marks on the roughest of turfs.
To finally deflate myself before thrown out of the hub.
To be the fuel to a rebellious fire.
I want to be a wheel.
Sadly, unambiguously, I'm one.
To take all wallops.
To be driven by an unknown.
To be helpless.
To wobble.
To grunt all the way I tread.
I don't want to be a wheel.
But, sadly I'm one.
Being a wheel, I want to roll back to the dark cave.
To see the cave man who cut out a piece of round wood and rolled, far before Civilizations grew or Gods born.
To be along with my forefathers who pedalled the giant wheel of irrigation and self humiliation to feed Royal paunches; to see the tiny bubbles of sweat - in which thousands of tiny suns shone- they wiped out of their forehead, working under the blazing summer sun.
To tell my forefathers - We are still slaves of rich and I have waned to a rubber wheel reined by some.
To see a world I would never have been.
To beetle off all repugnant penance. (Done to me. Can I ?)
To leave my skin-marks on the roughest of turfs.
To finally deflate myself before thrown out of the hub.
To be the fuel to a rebellious fire.
I want to be a wheel.
Sadly, unambiguously, I'm one.
.
