This poetry moves around slaves, about how they feel when we order them..Hope you will like it!
The God sent us to the earth as a free soul,
The rich of the world made us their slave
Those who shout, have to write their will
And those who remain, have to forget about their vein
I was thinking, how to get myself out from this jail?
Which they call a world,
Although i am weak but at least, i feel,
I believe that none is poor and none is richer except by their deeds.
This world is like a seed,
What you will grow,
You have to eat.
Your shout can heal anyone's wound and that isn't just easy.
I would rather prefer to kill myself, then to kill my dignity
I stand against them,
I won and they lose,
The dignity won and their brutality lose,
I was feeling satisfy and richer than those fools,
Who prefer to stay silent and don't feel their woes..
This was a small trial once written to cherish the mingling of the cultural and visionary essence of India..
A poem about these two skills and loves..
Just a poem that I wrote while waiting to hear from a current job. Mainly a poem of a writer's thoughts..