the path

The path is set,

paved for the rich and poor to walk and dance,

run and lurk in its strides that stray in the twilights of its disfigured patterns,

pebbles to the privileged for they know not of how scorching the sun is during day time,

night time frozen moments are reborn, amended in its whispers as we sit, frozen in moments, frozen in street light like status in achadia,-

it’s like it peeps to take a smug glance at your despair-

our lips are covered with freckles of hunger, tales are told in you belly,-

hey!-

words beneath your skin speak, your used to this by now,

hey!

The busy streets have silenced, only the wind greats your torn skin, expressionless it wail at us, it weighs us with its swiftness,

hey!

it whispers once more, not at us though, but at the shadows that curve us… 

Reviews

[DC Gentleman]

I enjoyed this... it felt like people walking the same road, unaware of each other. Yet it appears the poor have a more vivid story to tell..

The poem makes my mind wander..

Excellent..