Between business, and, social structures
A chase, is man, for that, perfect poise
Where his, caricature; world’s conjectures
Fight it out, to a, compromise!
In a herd, of clones, who wants, to be heard
Every soul, is a, blasé platitude
Who ain’t, beyond a, word bartered
Where latitude, is a, sin tabooed!
Who, can’t breathe, in this, miasma
Won’t find, oxygen, anywhere
Where ritualized, is, each, sheep’s karma
And nirvana – firm faith, in fear!
Why choose, substance, o’er subsistence,
A Godly grave, from, cursed cradle, of birth
Whose life, lingers in, existence
Is The Man, Of This, World’s Worth!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra
