His whole world moves on his back.
He lies or sits here and there -
Unknown of how others at him stare.
He murmurs by himself, illegible words -
Often throw paper bits at invisible birds.
With street canines he made friends -
A message to society he thus sends.
Food from the bins, food from somewhere -
None is bothered of how he does fare.
Sometime he points at the sky and talks -
Though rapt in heed but people still mocks.
Kids jeer him and some people cuss -
In his world his mind knows no fuss.
He sometime smiles and nods his head -
The child in him is yet not dead.
Is he mad? What does he think?
Isn't humanity on extinction's brink?
Who is it that judge the judges,
as humanity on decline slowly trudges?
Prasenjit©2022
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