Md. Sahedul Islam Hira

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We are breathing borrowed air,

One that allures a cardiograph linear;

We are drinking melted arctic water

One that freezes our souls, goes on a wander.

We are sawing our oxygen cylinders

To inhale fancy cultured dust.

We are fanning our mighty star

To forge multi-colored cooling rust.

We are running after a money-piper

To enter the elusive fort.

We knowingly take our destination

On a dead-end route.

We are snoring in a deadly sleep,

Dreaming all is fine.

Who will pour sense on us

To pay the fine?