The roses in hand
Has the fragrances of blood,
The land, which I left to earn,
Was not like the one I left,
How could be same,
Even I have changed,
The nightingales have migrated to
Not to gardens but to cities too
Looking for livelihood not Cuckoo
For love to has price to pay,
The inflation and rescission
Have hit all. Like a bring wall
Believes of man have changed
From communist to capitalist
Socialist some, some atheist
Some peacemaker, some terrorist
World spins on axis, of power or evil
What can I do, whom I can complain,
What does my existence mean to you
Reader of these lines,
Do i move your thoughts to mine
Or does your concern move my pen
What binds us, stranger to humanity
What relations does nightingale
And rose share
Is it the pain of nightingale or
Is it the redness of rose?
That market sells
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