Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

India is closed, shut, throttled, smothered.
By the order of a few.
For the few, by the few, of the few, claiming for all.
The daily wont be needing food, as hunger too would stop.
Children won't need milk, feed, bread, rice, as for one day their life halts.
The featus in the womb will halt for a day, as its little heart stops to beat,
Our politicians have far reach.
The rich are rich, the rich will get more rich,
The closing of India won't itch their bitch,
They will sleep sound with their molls kissing moles hidden from the poors crowd,
They will drink champagne, eat cakes, all not because of filthy communism,
But because of their balls can take, the risk of markets pendulum,
While the poor are hoodwinked and raped of a days earning,
The middle class will hump in happy afternoon picnic,
The pretty media dolls, will shake their jollies for social holies,
The country will turn a full circle,
And we will all be jolly follies.