Saturday, April 25, 2015



I am in the middle of crowd
Cursing as I have enter in
Not that I feel claustrophobic
But afraid of the people in

An ugly transformation I see
From man to monster
Conscience fly away
And what remains is faceless dirt

I am afraid of the lecherous eyes
The hands that trespass space
The sounds that jump my heart beat
The words that are opposite of grace

We talk of society
We talk of culture
Where do they vanish
Why in his face I see a vulture?

It smells of decay
The face shows the filthy layers
I am afraid of transformation
I am afraid of  the Mob


1 comment:

  1. I don’t know how should I give you thanks! I am totally stunned by your article. You saved my time. Thanks a million for sharing this article.


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