Curd is hung and has dripped whey
the half dry bedsheets in breeze sway
there are dying flowers in the tray
a hungry mynah pokes soil for prey
there is a solid reason
why today there is no sun
no it is not climate change
neither is it your puny phalange
In fact open up your palms and see
there is nothing there to free
you have owned precisely zero
and you think you are a hero
Not because you are so great
(you know you are not )
But because your mom told you so
every night your tears lied to your pillow
Everything dies , you know that , right ?
your deeds , your home , even your fights
Righteous , mighty perilous forays
Altruisms , battles , stoic days
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