He Is Like Me Poem by Aftab Alam

What am I? Grubbing into my thought,
Watching everything-murder, rape, poverty,
Peeping through the window or watching TV,
The whole is not touching me, not entering,
Into me, as if I have closed my eyes, shut ears,
And closed my mouth—tight lips- unmoved,

Why to spoil the mind's peace; let them suffer,
I am safe—my own world is untouched, let them,
Yesterday-I attended a funeral ceremony,
All near and dear were crying, dead silently
Listening to all, none touched him, a silent listener,
I shouted - he is like me - as I do he is doing,

Tell me all -when you will bury me, don't let me rot
I am stinking-drinking the poison of life-are you not?