VOICE LEFT OUT IN CHAINED DEMOCRACY.

                                  

       

Thousands or millions or may be countless, Joined the procession, pale face and limbs lifeless. 

Trudging through the dark to the dome of gloom.

Whereby no trace of green , no flowers bloom.

 They are not men, not women of flesh and bone, 

 They are only the cropses of known or unknown. 

 Every year is emptyed with the burden of deaths, 

 Not adorned with the crowns nor with wreaths,

  But with inflictions, full of mire and worry,

  The nation repents though, none feels sorry.

  

   Beyond the horizon, beyond your sight,

Ignoring your cries  denying your right 

To live a life that an innocent  claims for recorded time, brief ;

Not repose, nor affluence, only with pain and grief.

Not even know their wrongs or sins.

Why they are fleeting with wizened chins,           With weary feet, and with all might in grim

And pangs in hearts and tears in eyes, full brim.

Utterly vanquished in a battle they lost,

 While fighting the enemies not seen , nor crost.

©® Sudip Chatterjee 

( From India).