Victim

He drops on the sandy folds,

Of a deathly bed,

A lost traveler of a mighty desert,

Parched throat, cracked skin,

He is his own Messiah,

Or another vagabond victim...

He found there was no u - turn ,

Wind blew hot due to hot headed sun ,

Dusty wind strikes his face ,

Survival here is against human race ,

His throat dries due to thirst ,

All he seeks for is water first ,

It's a place where nature cheats with one's mind ,

Gives a glimpse of fake oasis which seems easy to find ,

Though he might be carrying plenty of gold ,

But there was not a single drop of water to be sold,

"OH! Lord ", he cried " its your curse on mankind ,

Where source of life water is not easy to find..."