SUMANA SAHA
The suspended officer is back again
Mere dance of pen and paper,
Look through the glass and he finds the chair
His powerful chair, his forever.
Or for just a few years more
Before his wet socks get sore,
Before his tie gets too rough
His guilty sinew, weaker than tough.
Gullible to mind, credulous to soul,
His heart was dead long, no humour left to troll,
He lives a necro-monger
Poor mortals shouts
Bribe, harassment, ambrosia
The toughest odd-one-out.
Yet lied a story behind the scene,
The transition of crime, from out or within.
Did he see his old mom killed?
Poverty, fame, poverty, shame,
Life he knew needs him, life is THE game.
The stars can hide in the clearest sky
There is more to it than meets the eye.
MasqueradedInsurgence 