Quick Human.. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

The weapon you hold, sharper than the sword,
The passport to the materialistic mummified tombs,
The love between the hearts measured in seconds,
Poor minds are spoilt and rot, while the hearts still chase,

You get trapped on your own in the routine clocks,
Even if you want to escape, you are bonded with tricks,
The best brains of the world work out in the labs,
The gentle human have some bank balance and a false smile..