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

I read your poems,
You read mine.
I am a born hunter, can't you read my mind?
Forget my mind, what about my intent?
When ever I hit the nail, you go into a shell.
But don't you realise, a man is born to hunt and brag and be a devil in disguise?
Is it my fault that I was born a man?
Is it your fault that your eyes fell on my vacant monsoon less land?
Did you not weep? For the mourning in me!
Did you not pray for the morning in me!
Then why stay away from the awakening in me?