The Crime We Coerce

Brought up well;

And life was of no biggie

Nothing was left out,

In his to-do's of all time.

They were well in accomplishing his wishes,

Not even a single pin he took;

For him, they worked like animals,

To make him, all-perfect.

Failed somewhere, to make him realize,

How hard life is,

How hardworking they are,

Just for him.

Fourteen autumns passed,

A-mad-figure on the front page,

Nah not in an appreciable way,

A figure drenched in a pool of blood beside.

Bleeding knife in his hands,

For, he was not the first-

For, he was compared to the deceased,

What is the perk of being perfect?

Yeah, it was him,

Wouldn't have been,

If he was also taught the value of life,

If he knew the value of life.