Now-a-days

Truth is harsh and lie is cold,
Survival happens through judgment of old.
All in company and yet so alone,
Wretched world where worth is measured in gold.

Every mouth chants and mute soul,
Wooden eyes burnt to charcoal,
the agony of epics untold,
for defeat was inevitable and victory a dole.

Oh human for what were you made?
Hatred for other and the rat race?
Is it something you know how it ends?
For life was for love and not for disdain.

Dhrubjyoti