Amann Aroraa (28 March 1993 / New Delhi)
Where art thou creativity?
Trapped and wrapped in pretty packets,
Wielded well by corporate rackets;
Everything ready-made offers the bazaar,
Bargains with my creativity every hour.
Directing me, the man-made machines,
Monitoring my mind by their reins;
Instructing me to work faster,
I am a slave, turned out of a master.
Alien to fragrance of a flushed flower,
And the spark of a seasoned shower;
Dispatched from Mother Nature's touch,
Seeks my creativity another crutch.
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