You give me pain
You throw insults at me
And laugh at my bad luck
You don't invite me to functions
For I have no nice dress to wear
You show me sympathy for I am poor
You read me and praise me
You sometimes wish to be
Photographed with me
And encourage to write more
The pallid sun goes down and down
Never to rise fresh as I see no morn
I am a poet of this land with a heart of gold
I write in darkness and my poems don't get old
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I love this poem, Anil. The feelings expressed are vivid. Keep writing with a heart of gold and so, true, out poems will never get old : )
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Despite all odds, you have a heart of gold.pl.continue your beautiful poems.