Bureaucrats
As always, everywhere
(When the man is paper)
Offices, prisons
Workers named "Bureaucrats".
Shutters down; behind desks
They sit in cubicle with pictures.
Husband, wife, children or lovers
Among them, they joke, laugh.
With people they are cold, they are dull
Stupid; they are dumbs
They play or backbite with delight
Till time comes: "Let's go home; it's over."
Between them and people
No feeling, no remorse, no divine
All they know is paper
Flip through and skim; or read them.
They're heart-less; have no mind.
Can feel them behind the wall
Some whisper some laugh loud
On this side hearts beat up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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