A Homeless Home
A place constructed in scents and colours
but walled by the bile of human character.
Chilling air leaving behind an itchy mind
and everything good in it, possesses a side effect.
A holy temple and a war zone are mixed bred
where the heart beats, jumps and relaxes in every minute;
where freedom is bagged and heavily conditional
and liberty, long been under serious medication.
The theaters are good narrators of its reality
b’cos every nice countenance and pleasant gesture
is a product of a well dedicated rehearsal,
hilariously crafting good times out of a certain time table.
The wind of joy crosses this dwelling
on its way to nature’s conference
but avoids the same road on its way back
as the red antenna signals its usual danger.
An Indian slave enjoys more freedom
and a hundred times liberty is experienced within a prison’s walls
than this place, merely existing to satisfy reality’s fame.
If this is a home- hell is an empire of peace.
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