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Irony
Ruchit Kaplish |
A man
in an expensive suit
with a bag of money in his hand
fearing from loot
this fear becomes dysphoria
accretion to other dysphorias
liability of four daughters
fed up with the work of slaughter
and still outside
in the late night
also, bothered of justifying
for being late, to his wife
then, saw a kennel on the roadside
a sleeping pet in the warm, unbraced
after taking the meals of the night
which its master baked
then, the man thought
I wish I could be a dog
A greyhound
on the rounds
no food, since mavny days
and by lices, eaten away
tried luck in a butcher's shop
a wound on the head, the hound got
which the butcher gave as bread
bleeding, no dress
for stitches, no thread
and, no place for shed
as snowstorm was expected, late night
already, killing-chill outside
also the fear of bull-dog's invade
through the window of a house with a little haze
a group of men, in a ring, eating beef
with the quilts incubating their feet
surviving from the wheels of a running van
the dog wished, "I could be a man"
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