It’s Hobson’s Choice

Sir, I’m impelled to speak again,

And I promise I’ll keep it plain.

I am a voice from the middle class

With no intention to trespass,

The laws of our democracy;

With allegations of hypocrisy.

I am a citizen, quite unknown,

Who likes to keep to his own.

Without expectation, I cast my vote,

Patriotism to promote.

I stand at attention when the anthem plays,

Viewing the tricolor with a revered gaze.

I pay my taxes, for my money’s white,

I haven’t much savings, but that’s alright.

I’ve never been featured on the news,

For who’s interested in middle-class views.

Yet the rich and famous, poor and meek,

Have all been given a chance to speak

Impertinent, I’m positively not,

Just tired of choking on my thought.

Give me a hearing patiently,

If only for humanity.

‘i’m really worried’, I confess,

But I shall speak nonetheless.

A virus bred by some yellow man,

Broke it fetters, the world to span.

No power, no prayer to halt its spread,

Through little droplets; multitudes dead.

With no bias against cast or race,

It preys on mankind in a rapid pace.

A blondish head has turned senile,

His intended puns can’t make us smile.

India counts; a billion and one points three,

A perfect prospect for catastrophe.

The left and right at daggers drawn,

Silently suffers the petty pawn.

Despite laws that did confine,

I clapped when told, burned candles nine.

Though resources contradict abundant,

At least I haven’t turned redundant.

Insurance premiums, EMIs, fees,

haven’t yet brought me to my knees.

My little contribution to charity

Is inadequate to bridge disparity.

Donations pacify a time that’s cursed,

When will those funds be dispersed?

To aid the suffering, wrecked man,

Whose resource rejected an emergency plan.

Must I reiterate the pathetic plight,

Of the migrant laborers’ desperate fight?

Frantically the blistering streets they roam,

To rest in peace once back home.

Spoken to, assured, then betrayed again,

Forbearance turns rebellion.

Doctors put their lives at risk,

They’re on their toes, alert and brisk.

To contain the virus, toiling night and day,

Are rewarded with a slash in pay.

The law enforcers must be vexed,

Who's to know, they may be next.

And now I'm made to understand,

Of a law that despises the hired hand.

No mandatory pay during the lockdown,

 employers smile as employees frown.

Implementation comes at a heavy cost,

For when the tides turn; loyalty’s lost.

A shiver runs down the bone,

For what tomorrow holds is unknown.

And since I’m incapable of taking stock,

I must bite my tongue and seize the talk,

And apologies for such trifling bellow,

From a nit-witted, middle-class fellow.

In the interest of my clan,

I’m often reduced to half the man.

And since there’s no magic spell,

Instinctively, I might as well,

Take half a loaf and mute my voice,

And remain content with Hobson’s choice.