365 Poem by Rishabh Rana

We went through it, it's not the year that passes,
It's us exposed to experiences the life encompasses.
'Three-six-five' is an intellectual bigot,
For some it is seraphic and for some it is terrific.

Some rate three, some five and some six,
The indigent asks for money, and health says the sicks.
Even best of them is chosen to be taught,
Where one without wallowing, following the fought.

No fawning, no yawning, from feckless to fierce,
The deafening silence, blunt knife, sharp enough to pierce.
Friends? No! Double-dealers, with characters tougher than TeX,
Smile is simple and vengeance is complex.

It is ought to be blood & sweat, no place for tears,
Strong as the voice of fate, no man with fears.
In spite all cold, all power, all strength,
Without 'ticking' being ticked, it's impossible to reach lengths.

While it is lovely to hear ivories,
It takes lots of patience and at times eye-worries.
Raise doubts not complaints about how '365' functions,
Processing not ranting, shows you how the punk shuns,

Breaking shackles of regrets, thriving to be better
is what I learnt, to run for those who really matter!