Listen Aloud

On a forgotten street with bitter words,
That stole the eyes of the summer breeze,
Lay stranded on this avenue with a loss,
And fear through nervous nerves and winds ablaze,
Cries aloud and back on the ground,
With the crushing stampede of glorious giants,
I was buried without a word, a tear or a name.

Lay like, I would never wake to see,
The green of grass or red of rose,
And I would become a dead living soul,
Like a cog of an unending wheel,
Hypnotized from heart to a non-living soul,
But I chose not to be, another horse on the course,
I was buried without a word, a tear or a name.

You’ve chosen the same cog for the glory, but wait,
And Listen aloud to the cries of the same wheel,
For the steel like jaws will grip you,
And will strip you of health, wealth and fortune,
For what will remain is a rusting machine,
Carefully polished to hypnotize another rhyme,
And you’ll be buried without a word, a tear or a name.

Sushant Kumar