Still Hoping Poem by Somali Mukherjee

Never go to ask someone
With sincere solidarity;
Fiery replies make us burn'
With serious frivolity.

None can help you, never will they;
This world's too complex;
Disgraced must be you to say,
If you do reflex.

These days depict more dire decay,
The more 'modern' we are;
We lose sense almost every day,
In the pursuit to be a star.

We all proceed, day by day,
To our final destination;
It becomes darker each day,
Until we become a constellation.

As we approach the final day,
We find ourselves undone;
'Che sera, sera' rules every way;
We wait for the new sun.