The World Is Partial To Everyone Poem by Pijush Biswas

The holy dishes are senewy
Although their lives never return-
Some hens crave to reach
Wherein dishes are made, yet;
As unwilling to meagre food,
They fly upon their unaccustomed wings
Less thinking of broods
Or, to mistake in brief indulgence
And death enhance their will
To be permanently in men's indignant;
But well-arranged dishes are praiseworthy
With their sinew.
The world is made partially for everyone-
If somebody wants to be
Where he thinks life's secret lies,
Should enquire every edge
Whether death awaits or not.
O! hens are utterly unaware.