Musing 150 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

Unreal people gushing out from the channels
In liter vein before rushing towards the mirage
Unlike the hillock brooks with stepping pleasant
But are littered wider as if the blood of miscarriage.
Antics from ages unknown with faces engraved
By the hands inefficient upon the rough stones
With all blemishes quite prominent under the nose.
Toiling selves being unaccustomed with the rest
Are hovering over the rats hole like the birds of prey
In delusion to hunt them accurate before the dusk sets.