Each day I wake, I adorn my mask
Cover the pain, a most daunting task
I hide deep within my hallowed shell
Puppeteer function, hope none can tell
Pull the crooked lever hinged to the smile
Interact with strangers, another dial
Crank the handle that winds up the walk
Yank on the chain to make the mouth talk
Like a one man band who plays and sings
Work all the complex pullies and strings
Mechanized master, it's become routine
Armoured safe within my tarnished machine

Green
Refreshing
Maturing to become
Grains that will feed us

WIth the sweat of the farmer
WIth the tears of the widows and daughters
WIth the sorrow of the indebted ..
WIth the curse of the deprived and downtrodden..

We don't see the stories behind the scene
We relish the fancy recipes of the Master Chefs
Of fragrant rice, golden rice and the slim and slender grains
We forget the dark, thin, slender bodies who make it for us...