The Mask
The land of living has been
Possessed by masqueraders,
No need of faces to be seen;
The land is a mask,
It's the celebration
Of desolation.
The smiles of the schemers
Are seen in every city!
Only they decide who will live
And who will die.
And the life we die.
There is neither wrong
Nor right time
Not white nor black either
And not half-caste
And no one really knows
Whether to live on what we can find
Or how our lives are twisted
In the throes of fate.
Silence flows through us...
We have nothing to say:
Unwilling to explain
Unable... to find words
For all there is to say.
We feel the need to hide our faces.
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