Musing 117 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

People are guarding their bodies
with eyes open underlying their anxieties
For the sufferings preconceived in silence.
Faiths concrete while in cradles moving
Or in laps changing with warmness bellowing
Wont be reflected upon the floor mazine
How much the persistent polishing might be
By the million hands to erase the blemishes,
Stars looking taken aback on dead roaming
Upon the earth and eaves drop the livings.