If you happen to be in the wild
You may roam for a while
Till you isolate a part that’s mild
And find solace in exile.

Far away from your essence
You see a broken road to the pie
You offer it resistance
But your heart craves for the sky.

Comes down like a hammer of hail
Or so it seems to your head
You get struck by the leopard’s tail
You hallucinate instead

You see the word and the coin
Pen verses out of strain
Seek the two to adjoin
Ending in sheer mess and pain

The authorities are mad
For they have made us see
That the word and the coin
Were never made for poetry!