By Avranill Chakrabarty
Through my imaginative eyes,
I wear the glasses of stark reality.
My hands could paint the world with dyes,
Yet I'm trapped in this grey city.
A life of monotony I endure,
Where wasting time is entertaining
Where reels and reals blur beyond cure,
And the past is pretty boring.
Though good leaders rise, they're swiftly stolen,
And are locked up behind the crate
In the new era, chaos is golden
And scars wear the crown of fate.
We live for aura, we live for respect
We do not live for life
We live with our promising dialects
But we do not let it survive.
We raise our voices, demand a change,
Then wait for others to comply.
Our masks stay still, our hearts estranged,
Doomsday siblings, you and I.
From the depths of weary thought,
A light, though faint, begins to rise,
A breath of courage, long forgot,
Awakens truth before our eyes
So clasp the hands to sweep despair.
A brighter world is ours to repair.
By Avranill Chakrabarty
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