His eyes, loyal..

His eyes loyal,

His wishes little,

His dreams not many,

Two times meals- that is all.

He works for hours,

Under a man- for a man;

who takes away the profit,

makes him do all work.

Yet, he abuses him to go,

to leave, when almost-

all work is but done.

It hurts as much to see,

what he goes through;

but doesn’t want to show,

for his life, and its reality,

bites him every moment-

still, he has a hope.

A hope to find work,

the next day. His work,

isn’t appreciated, although-

people ask for his work,

the most,
with hours of labour,

hours of midnight oils he burns-

Yet, the mischief done is put,

unto him by his master,

who is good enough in power,

unlike him.

It would be about another day,

a newer conflict with life;

when a new employer,

would do him the same;

to his already torn off heart-

more bullets would be shot at-

because that is the way of the world,

the society in general.

What to say, what not to say,

Heart to self does whisper.

Why were you born here,

when no one is yours ever?

People show you, their fright-

their incapabilities are put at you,

you work greater, with your heart-

and soul in your job, still the mindset-

falls about to be, 

well, again; to say, this is that society.

He wakes up the next day,

bereft of a sound sleep-

he goes about the shops and crosses,

yet again, the same- and many newer roads,

in quest to find another work of labour-

and yet he could find two meals for the day.

Gagandeep Singh Vaid