The Cog That Wouldn't Fit

A Poem by Swagato Saha

Amidst the sun-sketched, sumptuous Savannahs,
Would roam the merriest dazzle of zebras;
Strolling, sauntering, and cantering long all day,
Along rivers, lakes, in vales, would they play.

Jocund and jolly they were, but for one,
He'd drag on, alone... forlorn,
For, he was specked, with vibgyor polkas,
Cornered by a world, of black-white zebras.

Skewered and jeered by his "kindred",
He'd seethe with self-loath and hatred.
"Buzz off, buffoon, you're not one of us!"
"Creeps like you belong to the Circus."

Whilst the savannahs slept under a star-studded sky,
Huddled, they'd loll, to the longhorn's lullaby;
Estranged and numb, would he shiver,
Gazing into watery depths of the moonlit mere.

Such times of pensive solace, he'd savour,
And console himself in worried whispers...
Oft he'd shed honest tears, and cry away to slumber,
To dream of distant lands, blue hills, and azure rivers.

'Tis how life wears on, in the desolate Savannah,
Amid inflamed insecurity, and haunting Melancholia;
Until tempers would flare, one dark, gloomy day,
Screaming and sobbing, he resolved to run away!

In frantic flurries of pace, towards Infinity, he ran,
Scaling sky-high peaks, surging through barren lands.
Alas, Vengeful Fate!...his days were indeed numbered,
To hunger, monotony, to Death, he had to but surrender.

For, specked he was, with vibgyor polkas,
Hence denied, by a world, of black-white zebras;
Like bricks in walls, or cogs in machines,
They'll be dumped, if they can't fit in...