Along lonely roads we roam

Going after the well-off

Trying to find aid at their feet

Yet we find none.

Plodding in filth and poverty

We are marooned and lynched

As we look at the stars like everyone else

Even nature has no place for us

Our backbone is no bone


We have gone places in our dreams

Been dead in our nightmares.

How we laughed, seeing those who shun our company

Weep by our remains with candour

The love we yearned, was lavished on our remains

Our lungs burst with laughter

The only time we have smiled.

Tomfoolery in our death parade

A sight their tear-battered faces were;

Locked in total sullenness

Death gave us a status or none


Happiness, we realise is not achieved by the snap of fingers

We are called the crazy creatures

Drivers of fancy cars of filth

The forlorn friends of flies

Effigies of disgrace.

We stand down and throw our hands up

Never cut out for the life we seek.

Finally we keep hope dead.



One thought on “THE MEN OF STRAW

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