He fells in our trap,
He plays along our plan,
He flaunts his belongings,
He boasts about himself,
He has a childish mindset
With a heart very soft
Which makes him cry a lot
He wants the reality to accept him
He’s openly laughed on,
But still in every morn,
He comes with a bright laughing smile
And continues being made fun of
Why do I feel like to insult him
Whenever I see his helpless face?
He once looked upon me,
Told me he felt good with me,
But I don’t know when
Did I ever stop making fun of him
Why do I regret every night
Making fun of him
Why does his innocence
Only strike at night?
And even this poem that I wrote,
I wrote at night.