Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi


the immigrants..


We are all alone here doing mundane tasks,
The same morning declaring match stick,
Send the rays through the curtains of barracks,
Where the like minded people work as immigrants,
Open their eyes to follow the strict rules,
The same smooth breeze carries the nails of fingers,
To scratch the weeping hearts those hold the smiling faces,
Millions of us have circled the tardy earth,
To collect the printed papers those have the worth,
Is the ‘East’ the word of curse to have the myths?
We may not know the answer, as we have failed in Math,
Multiplication of money and metals in the concrete jungle,
We, the immigrant workers, build the dream castles.

Submitted: Monday, December 16, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, December 17, 2013

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