The Fake Poem by Binayakumar Mohanty

The orthodox weeds
of stone age
evade into my
bed room.

I trusted on you
so much
but on the day of trial
you stood on their side.

Much have we suffered
in the hide and seek
between You and me.

Your burgeoning smile
killing my proletarian soul.

My proletarian cry
threatening your burgeoning crown.

All are of the act same
but episode different.

One day must, I
will assemble all
your kith and kin
near and dear
friends and foes
neighbor and relatives
tell them must
the crown you hold
the territory you acquire
are all fake.

The language you speak
the costume you wear
are not yours.

You are also fake
like me.

Will they believe?