The World Below the Line

No ways are left Except to accept conditions And forced to be contented Above the line of our head There exists another world The world of privileged with different mind sets Social norms, dress codes and etiquette What we eat that they eat not What we think that they think not They worry but not with what We are worry about, Sadness, happiness or grief Caused for different reasons With different color and shed Our agenda for discussion are their left over on tables Their sharing news items are beyond our fancy World within a world Divided by a sharp vertical line In the lower world people are coiled up like a snail And silently keep killing thousand dream-babies, strangulating To offer at the altar of destiny Yet these could not be worthy enough To be sensational items of news Like the debaucheries of the upper world The gap is too wide And their eyes are fixed and cast up To walk few yards with them is like abusing And bringing abject humiliation upon self The world of poetry is no different The curse of division here, too, clearly visible A poet from the common man Without money and high position Easily never get the requisite exposure and recognition Daily they sacrifice words Cut by the sharp swords of pain But all gather at the curves of a beach Like the foams of failure In this life no other ways are left And have to learn to live In the world below the line And say , satisfied.