photocredit:www.theguardian.com
Oh! am god’s clay
soft , tender, smooth
yet can be brittle and tough at times
nay, I ain’t hail
from the breed
of proud ,haughty misnomers
who sparsely realize a drop
of tear worth…
neither they hath seen the
gory of dead or
the dreaded hunger
yet epitomize
words ..larger than life
social and palpable
..they have mugged the
Oxford handset
decks which every word as treasure
alas! never could their heart get drench
in the tragic rain of worries under the
shrouded
rain coat of superficial fashion..
soumyav 
Aha! Powerful, lyrical that brings soft murmurs to the aesthetic sense, Soumya:)
Thank you so much Vishal