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Stacks of currencies are littered everywhere, his affluence depicts his personality
Stationed at the highest echelon of the society, mischievous premier of the economy
The youths are tools for his snap, going down the lane of delinquency
He tosses them at will, giant explorer of the weak willed
The hangman hanging their destiny
Thrall, underprivileged class of the society
Walled up in oblivion, depreciating hope of a better tomorrow
Dressed in shreds, hunger and death our daily meal
At dusk we feed rats of the street, our slums is the garbage bin for tomorrow
The horror of the morning is waking to find a dead kid wash offshore
Living in fear of the unknown seconds sustaining each day
Lying in the most of coziness
In fluffy beds, wired machines life leaves him
Blaring ambulance conveys him to the morgue, still attended to as the high priest
Embalmed with costly myrrh, he is taken for internment
Amidst tears and wails he's gently lowered into that dark room
The one room he never had
Beings scattered with crawled limbs and infested mouth
He passes on from the forlorn to yonder, lying in gutter, under bridges
The privileged of us get to have our relatives, others are found in cemeteries fed on vultures
No mourners at our graveside, forgotten before dawn
Still the one room we never had
Society gapped our lives with class
Death humbles us breaking the tags of importance
We are equalised, affluence and poverty disperses
The dark room of solace our abode, putrid we become.
Death humbles a man and society defines a man. Life isn't easy to live and the societies difference tag fails to make it easier. In any class you exist, be you, be good and be true.
Somewhere in between my scattered bed and fuzzy hair
Around the first lazy hour past midnight, I dreamt again
You were there with your ***** snapped teeth and razing eyes
You wanted to talk or you came back with your spirited voice to fight
Something is different about you now, the cuts on your thighs are deep
Covered with bandages of death
I came to tell you about my new found addiction to smoking
Fidgeted with a half-empty 
glass tightly clasped within your grip.
You were my home, and I was your tormentor
I didn't know the heaven I had, now hell stings with the flashes of you
I couldn't fit in either
I am dying
You turned to leave
He changed from this happy soul to the grimace of a devil
I would know that this  particular night was one where you so desperately needed to feel home.
Yet I could only observe you before returning to pick up the garbages left of you
Tomorrow I will visit not to torment you, rather to be your peace.
If coming back to what's left behind determines the goodness of living, look beyond the odds and keep it.
I will borrow our time
Those wasted on the shores of love
Believing you'll be mine
Hold me at the end if it rips you apart
Everyone needs to know about us

Borrow me your smile
The gay robust cheek when you pluck flowers
Watching my daughter from the window do same
She's you, I see myself too
Our mistake she wore, now my pain she is

The squishy sound you make at night
After recovering the mails I never saw
The doctors said you would live long
I believed we would stay
Now I have just words to eat

It rained the day I lost you to her
Same the day you tore my clothes in the street
I let you fill yourself in me
A bare floor I am, lost my glory to you
The rain is a curse to me

I would have loved to borrow you and time
For a night to talk about us
To spare me the pains of withering everyday
Like the flowers my daughter picks
Now I spur myself to the bliss of life.

I found myself on loosing you.
Life broken dead mistake lost curse
We had a fight
My drunk neighbour and I
I am a bottle of whisky
Or should I say an empty bottle of whisky?
He took me from the counter
He looks rich
Uncorked my pride with a gold ring
Sitting in the middle of the bar there my problem started
The man sitting next to him called me *****
A brand of champagne he had with me
Should I generalize what he said?
Will other bottles feel offended?
Why make wine superior?
Beer is for the bothered
I help you stay off your wrecking mind
Safe from your own illusion
Why talk about me?
Angry, I spilled on his trouser
The bar man helped me win the battle
He cursed the little content in me
Drained my pride of liquor
He never failed to talk about his family
His abusive wife who beats his ***
Now it's time to go home
He threw me to the wall and I felt my body break
He won the war.
Body frail weak war drained liquor illusion drunk spilled

— The End —