At The Doorway Of Society Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

They, the mothers, fathers, sons, daughters,
Brothers, grand father and great grandfathers
And the inhabitants from across the globe are in suffocation
They are so tightly entrapped in the traumatic currents of life
They have been weeping to the constancy of their unending wounds
Every suffering soul today yearns for a passionate tune
Fatherless daughters are crying under the scorching sun
It's an intensely miserable state of affairs
Tears trundle down the pale faces
Ah, the pictures of deep melancholy I see
Alarms all around yet no ray of firm faith
Silent corridors, mute streets and faded villages
The mandate of cities too is compromised
I find no dialect to fetch the mouths of natives
Upstairs are excited and the downstairs are full of doubts
That's sadly the case here, comrade!
Inquiries display fakeness
And falseness laughs through the official files
In every eye, there is a different mesh
Messy prints occupy the ideas
Story-writers choose the damned characters
And so is case with novelists
Poets anyways smoke the sold sighs
I as a poet of intense stamina want to relieve them;
I wish I could dress the cuts of disturbed souls
Through the windy sides of my poems, I'm peacefully on
Converting the miseries into melody I restore my smile
I just want not to sit here on one way;
I want to accompany them in every stubborn walk of life,
I enable them through peacefully rebel words
Because they are the real literature of our life.