By
Hira Azhar
A BITTER REALITY OF MAN
Man is nothing but a ruthless midge
Hurtling desperately in the over-crowded ridge
Running intensely behind trivial desires
Knowing nothing but only white lies
Surrounded by countless faces on the merciless land
Yet as alone as a solitary grain in the vast sand
THE BURNING METROPOLIS
The hellish screams of innocent souls in the deadly dark
The rotten sour eyes of the loving mother after the tragic blast
The mocking crowd desperate for their turn
The vigilant workers carrying a heavy gun
The silent laughs of the genuine men
The slowly passing hours of a dry pen
Asks the same question
Why are we isolated?
Why are we created?
Why are we so hated?
Who will dignify their position?
Who will clarify their opinion?
Perhaps no one; perhaps no one
Except the supreme power ruling the sun
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