One Of Many

By Mukesh Choudhry

Just another,

A man in black,

In a world of grey,

Smoke in these streets of ash and strays,

Dealt with a no good hand

Of all the dandy cards to play.

Stuck in the lays with macabre braids

Of jaded daze in a purple haze,

Grazing skies,

With his broken gaze.

Lost in the sly,

Of this pagan maze,

Armed to teeth,

With his fleeting sheen.

But though all's dirty,

He's yet clean.

Fancying dreams of fading greens,

An unaware being;

Plunging into shady deals

Of pharisaic ideals and mellow greed.

Wonder when he'll realize his shackles,

Realize he's freed,

In his state of mind

Of blues and means,

And deem these shades,

With realistic pace.

But until then, when

That, it comes to pass,

And the barren tasks fruition

For his lacks,

He is just another, a clack,

Just another,

A grey man in black.

By Mukesh Choudhry