By Rohan Chakrabarty
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| deviantart.com |
handing me things I don’t yearn for,
saying things I don’t savour of
yet I sit idle, necessity makes me do so.
I look upon the street, thick with crowd
people like you, a melodrama of colors
an epitome of hierarchy, both rich and poor.
I wonder, do I belong here at all?
Amidst pangs of hunger and search for shelter,
intimidate self, for make believe self-exuberance
I ponder, I know that I have no future here,
and among the daily chores as an anarchical being.
Do you have one?
About: Masters student at IIT Bombay, believes the world is made up of words, lives because of words and it will be the sole reason for its perish also. A make believe poet, techno-savvy, and an amateur blogger. www.acorrigiblepoet.wordpress.com
