Thousands of thousands people
Among the thousands of rows
Waiting for the entry to the show
Of blitz, glamour and corruption.
The first rows are for the VIPs
The middle ones are for the sycophants
As I am neither of them
So my row is the last one.
Front line is for the hypocrites
Middle ones are for the touts
As I am neither of them
So my line is at the end.
I am feeling lonely
And my row is empty
Could you please for few minutes stand with me?
So that I can show you the real delight
Of life in the path of honesty..
honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty
honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty
honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty honesty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the back benchers decide the fate of front row people! Honesty can't be compromised always! a thought provoking poem!