Biri Blues

Drag
Drag on
Drag me out
But you are only dragging me down to the drain

to hide yourself from the scorn of society.
When all I have longed was some taste in you.
When you would not even buy me, my boy;
Why, tell me why, my boy?

The rabble rule.
Don't be so cruel.
You are acting
like a military, like a fake democracy;

Live inside your building of indifference,
while you build a statue of liberalism at your gate.
How can I let you know the truth?
How would you know it?

Blinking and winking merrily,
I would stay rubbing myself
against the cracked lips and crooked teeth
of my dear, dirty, poor folks, who chain-smoke to reach their gods.

But I'm just the butt, filter-less
of a biri, in my bareness,
Here, used and forgotten, near the drain
with a bloody, faded, red thread dangling on my head.