A Farmer’s story

Monsoon is late
no water to irrigate.
the seeds are fragile
and they can’t wait.


My children are hungry
three days straight.
They haven’t see any
food in their plate.

The cattle is dead
foul smell permeate.
crows and vultures
feast and celebrate.

I have no assets to trade
All I am left with is
non quantifiable rage.

I ask you Almighty
what about this life
I should appreciate?

The rich abominate,
the seasons berate.
no one is here to help
and cooperate.

All I can think is
death as my fate.


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