Stain on my interview shirt

Her eyes sparkling,Burrowing inside a bag of malnutrition            
Expecting spare change ..Little Angel, my heart wishes             
mention of his want to empty himself,You made him rue the             
reservation fate had for me. Let me become the investment banker,            
And he will find a day to pamper             
your Smile.     
            
That interview defied me but gave my calendar an             
excuse To skip that day , Should've inferred her prayers were dwarfed of their use,             
That god, they've constructed up there, And he doubts, dwelling in our soul,        
Piles up our gluttony, thankfully, And heaps Its sins On a              
stainless Bowl.             
       
   
   
   
[ A word of thanks to Shaman for making me read more in my lines]