Recession In the Garden

The roses in hand Have the fragrances of blood, The land, which I left to earn, Was not like the one I left, How could be same, Even I have changed, The nightingales have migrated too Not to gardens but to cities. Looking for livelihood not Cuckoo For love to has price to pay, The inflation and rescission Have hit all, Like a brick wall. Faith of man have changed From communist to capitalist Socialist some, some atheist Some peacemaker, some terrorist World spins on axis, of power or evil What can I do, whom I can complain, What does my existence mean to you Reader of these lines, Do i move your thoughts to mine Or does your concern move my pen What binds us, stranger to humanity What relations does nightingale And rose share Is it the pain of society or Is it the redness of blood? That market sells