And forced to be contented
Above the line of our head
There exists another world
The world of privileged with different mind sets
Social norms, dress codes and etiquette
What we eat that they eat not
What we think that they think not
They worry but not with what
We are worry about,
Sadness, happiness or grief
Caused for different reasons
With different color and shed
Our agenda for discussion are their left over on tables
Their sharing news items are beyond our fancy
World within a world
Divided by a sharp vertical line
In the lower world people are coiled up like a snail
And silently keep killing thousand dream-babies, strangulating
To offer at the altar of destiny
Yet these could not be worthy enough
To be sensational items of news
Like the debaucheries of the upper world
The gap is too wide
And their eyes are fixed and casted up
To walk few yards with them is like abusing
And bringing abject humiliation upon self
The world of poetry is no different
The curse of division here, too, clearly visible
A poet from the common man
Without money and high position
Easily never get the requisite exposure and recognition
Daily they sacrifice words
Cut by the sharp swords of pain
But all gather at the curves of a beach
Like the foams of failure
In this life no other ways are left
And have to learn to live
Below the line
And say, satisfied.

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