Squeaking wheel gets the oil
I have never understood this spoil.
I was never raised to ask and soil.
To live through fire and ice, were my choices, my signature toil.
When I was young, and you are always young,
I wanted your kiss, I never asked for it miss,
Why didn't you give it, free?
Did you truly believe in the dictum of the wheel?
Hardik Vaidya's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Squeaking wheel gets the oil by Hardik Vaidya )
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