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By Nikhil

There is this man walking down the street

Blazing hot hour but wears an overcoat, pressed and neat

Gloves and masks, as if to hide everything they were made

Marches toward nowhere to nobody

His folks arrive, pheww At Least he got somebody.

No moment of frown, being unbothered with the dress code

The mask shows wrinkles of smile but knees trembling with its load

Now a woman arrives, notices it all and throws those extras in the bin.

Removes all the covering but makes him wear her preferred skin

They made a distance, they fall they rise, parting eventually with stems of roses

The skin was not his so it falls off and decomposes

The man is butt naked, visible to me and everyone who could see

Sprinting backwards founding the bin, he becomes the man he always used to be

By Nikhil

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