PoetrySatire

The Regret is Late

Dying is not an option
To the policy that is a police
Arresting the poor into merciless poverty
Those without ink
Are dying in pain
The ‘how?’ and ‘why?’ are topics
There is hunger of knowing
But corruption kills it all
And, the government smiles widely.

But when sea waves strike
Man walks in the rain of thunder,
In storms whose voice escort the soul,
In hunger of picking in bins,
In thirst of drinking in potholes,
In snow of freezing minds,
In races without legs,
In cries unheard,
In feeding on rotten grains,
And, stays in houses of falling foundations
Dying is not option.

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