.

.

. Is it me?

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.

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Is it me or is that a conscience I see drowning in the apathetic gutter?

Is it me or is that a expletive I hear a gucci-clad man to a homeless person mutter?

.

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Is it me or is that a pure heart I spot, being savagely ripped with malice?

is it me or is that a soul being drowned in an obscene ostentatious chalice?

.

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Is it me or is that the sickening drone of the few carping on about their bank balances’ erect phallus?

Is it me or are they the same who regard the homeless as living in an under-the-bridge palace?

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Is it me or is that the chilly wind of apathy I feel a-blowin’?

Is it me or are those streams the tears of numberless mothers that keep on a-flowin’?

.

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Is it me or is that the hallowed bourse where human dignity like derivatives are calculated and sold?

Is it me or is that the flogged dignity that the many try so hard to grasp onto and hold?

.

.

It must be me, even though my eyes see nothing now but the repellant glare,

of the overflowing glittering pot of plenty from which only the 1% share.

.

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It must be me because when basic humanity is an endangered sentiment glimpsed at, only here and there,

It must be me when exhausted labourers have to scrounge around just to eke out their daily bus fare.

.

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It is me for I laze on my throne, dashing off these meagre absolving scribbles,

It is me for it is from my mouth that each hollow “I’m-so-shocked” dribbles.

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It is me as I “like” photographs of squalor and famine on Facebook et al,

It is me for I am the one who remains self-absorbed as the forests burn, and the last rhino awaits the grandiose cull.

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It is me alright, no doubt about it at all, as I smirk at the weakened who stumble and fall,

It is me alright, who rides my chariot through the hungry throng, just so I can make it to the glittering ball.

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.

Of course it is me, with my hifalutin words and my hollow don’t-give-a-shit attitude,

Of course it is me, just as long I can scribble meaningless platitude upon platitude.

.

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Of course it is me.
That much I know to be true.

.

But,
just possibly,

.

could it be you too?

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__________________________

copyleft afzal moolla 2019