Got my signature, refused a drink of water
He was in a hurry
He had to make deliveries
His tag said courier, he was parched though
His day was just beginning
Mid noon to late evening
Followed by nights at the hospital
Bedside by his Maa
She has been his reason to breathe
Now her's was force fed via a ventilator
She had no choice for this plight
The others were just selfish
He has had his third test,
He is clean, his clothes not so much
He has held back an ocean
To break down and cry, but Baba can't see
His sister gets him rotis, half cooked
Her 17 year hands were busy in journals
Journals don't teach life skills
They help you earn
Only to get a degree, to be employed
While ruled and herded by ones that lack
Even basic morality, let alone be an edurite
Come Monday, they will mostly die
Or their voices will
In this absence of humanity.
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