you are aloof,
as you tread down this slippery
perfumed mud,
embracing the river of life
that has forgotten
changing courses,
a long way time ago.

A flood is a dream for it.
a storm is like an unexpected orgasm.

Still, you tread down happily,
in your custom-made suits
wearing hand-stitched shoes.

You like others,
shall submerge in the sea
near a voiceless estuary
that amasses countless
unspeakable bodies

If only, you would have rattled those cages
and bled in those sharp-edged
rooms, embracing your individuality
then resilience would have blessed you
with fear; and believe me a little fear
with a pair of eyes either blooms to courage
or dawns to a beautiful death.