A Farmer’s story

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

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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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