Hungry for years ,
Dying in tears
The rodents have no fears.
For daily they nibble
At our feeble
Lifeline – the family cake.
We toil sweat and blood to make,
Theirs is to come and take.
We try to cry but we are too weak.
Our hearts are laden with grief and our future is bleak
When we motion, they scatter.
Behind closed doors they gather,
In their perpetual black and white skins
As if to tame our penury
But they rather maim our pedigree
because then, they take bigger mouthfuls.
Swinging like pendulums after,
Bloated stomachs afore them like balloons,
They ride away in their sleek coffins.
We are like animals interlocking across a tall tree trunk,
Craving for the sweet fluid faeces that flows
From atop the tree.
The birds of the tree churn this out.
Far at the bottom yet with short tongues,
We shuffle and reshuffle – a drop we must uneasily reach
The nearest and chameleon tongued
Keep staving us.
Daily, with our wind prone might, we struggle.
Whenever we succeed, ours is the dry remains.
Until the rain stops, no one will see our tears.
