Poetry

The Glass

I often question

how tender you are?

how gentle you are?

how brittle you are?

The moment

you touch the floor

break into pieces,

reflect the broken images of us!

                                       

You are filled with a drink,

either full or partial,

dictating the life

half broken

or in full

like the dilapidated mansions

tucked at the farthest corner

of the town

or far away

from the plebian!

                                                     

Yet your sheen

seizes the heed,

clinks –

spawns inebriation!

Accompanies the dancer

in a party of influential,

throws you away somewhere

like the one lost its relevance!

Existence at stake

like the poor mortals

on the globe

of envy,

of malignance,

of illness!!

                                                              

                                      ~Kunal Roy

                                      Kolkata, India

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