Poetry

What’s with dot com uncles?
They’ve shifted their chum angles.
And turned on their nice nieces.
Declaring that they too, have soft spots.
Spots that should be sported.
Their hands now hover.
Over zones, their eyes cover.
Options being tapered.
Yet decision needed hastily.
Before the soft spots harden.
And their maraudering warden.
Selfishly take the cake.
They didn’t bake.


Now she lives alone.
She took the other option.
After pondering theirs opinion.
Though out of her uncle’s hunger.
The world awaits with anger.
Teeth sharpened, jaws sturdy.
Nature thus cries and the future wonders.
Who will keep them company?
If they are exploited today.