Prat The Untouchable Brat Poem by David N. Munene

His name has been Prat
He will always be... Prat
Since he was young he's been a brat
Or at least perceived to be a brat
Regardless of the value of his discipline carat
To some, he will always be a rat

You see, Prat was born in India
His family untouchable; from glory not near
Prat didn't choose to be untouchable
His ma's womb from caste detachable
Like a rotten idea in a saintly conference,
Prat is perceived as loathsome and without chance

But Prat is doomed from womb
He is cursed from infantry to tomb
He was untouchable born
He will untouchable die - till perhaps reborn
Of which chance is slimmer,
Than grass-reed thinner

Prat fights for his right
Society sees his wrong
They even feel his life's oblong
A bother condemned to stain societal plight
Like does a storm-borne cloud hovering,
Grotesquely, persistently on the blue skies

Who will save Prat?
Who will redeem his humanly plight?
Who will; when his own people are disgusted?
Perhaps death; death, which he hopes
Will take him soonest
And raise him up the caste

Please die Prat; die... die
For only whence you in the crypt lie
Will you be Prat and not Prat the brat
And society will never see in you a rat