Our Street Is Broken
Our street is broken,
Iron gates now lay widely ajar.
Who among you will not lend a hand, a friendly token,
To check the growing gully, drifting us apart.
Hungry stomachs groaning in the corner,
'Give us a crumb, a slice, ' they say.
While refuse bin outdo one another,
In exotic dishes, a few yard away.
Single parent, yet living unsingle,
Their charades in their children's eyes does mingle.
Broken homes leaving fragile kids torn,
Between love for dad and love for mom.
Children run wildly in broken innocence,
Their shattered dreams nipped in the pod, decadence.
Life undresses before them in erotic styles,
In styles, which will trouble even a perverted eyes.
Sane women carrying their tirades about,
In the market place, even dogs are aware;
Of their barks as they go through their ware,
With cacophony tired around their big mouth.
Weak men in female skin;
In sullen marriage, cowardice the next of kin.
They are happy, They are far from home;
Far from Amazon wives, who will not leave them alone.
Strong men bearing loads of guilt;
Of dead conscience, upon which their lives were built.
In public eyes; they are the masters you see.
In private; their enslaved souls beg to be free.
Virgins are rare; an endangered spieces.
And almost extinct is the genuis of good men.
Oh! dear Darwin; is these all evolution phases,
For our biology teacher can not seem to comprehend.
A walk through the streets decorated with refuse.
Bag and baggages; they all are here taken.refuse.
Our cultures and morals are on these street forgotten,
And our dirty linen are here washed in the open.
Our street is broken,
The sounds of bomb and guns, are but a token,
To us all; a father, a preacher or a groom.
Reminding us of the very impending doom.
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