When he was young,
They would lift and caress him with their hands.
They would cheer him up with childish songs.
They would tickle and watch him smile.
They would call him names of jokes.

When he was young,
She would call frequently just to check if he is okay.
He would come back from work just to hear him crying once.
They would limit their social times.
And obviously have conversations with him, like he does understand.

When he was young,
He was treated like a king of the jungle,
Given all the possible attention.
Synthesis all his demands with no whine.
Tolerate all his whims, they said he is a child.

When he was young,
Bought toys like stock to a supermarket.
Clothes for him galore like fashion function.
Given money frequently like throwing pebbles.
Food for him prepared wholeheartedly.

Now that he’s old,
They don’t even care whether he has eaten or not.
Wouldn’t even have a talk like parents and a son.
Clothes he was bought quarterly.
All the names of jokes turned into monstrous names.

Now that he is old,
Daddy doesn’t come from work even if he is in pain.
Mommy doesn’t call frequently, neither she calls.
His requests are now meaningless.
His whims are now unbearable.

Now that he is old,
He struggles to get all their attention.
From king of the jungle to king of the streets.
He had to work hard to get money.
He had to do everything all by himself.

They washed their hands off him.
I feel pity for him,
Maybe he shouldn’t have grown up.
When he was young, when he was young…