By Yashwant Mishra
Word Count: 165
Rating: PG for thematic content
Summary: A lament of the state of India
Children are begging, the youth is lagging,
They died for nation but never saw it coming.
The men being sold, money is everything,
The mentalities are soured, no need for poisoning sting.
Children are going to work not school
Mother being beaten, father so cruel,
Alcohol makes the decisions, happiness drowning in its pool.
People chained-up on the roadsides, ready to be sold
They call it a fair where fun sounds so old.
Life is cheap, ego always wins,
Very few speak of rights while terror grins.
The wise are gone, old left behind,
City cannot change, traditions faults makes them blind,
The poor cry out, but the rich don’t mind,
I wanted to change, so I was fined.
The fort shines with light, civilization knows darkness,
The citizens are ignored by rules so formless.
The city has a monster, but not the one with tentacles,
He is the king wearing dark, blinding glasses,
I wanted to advise him and found myself in ropes entangled.