Son Of The Land

By Aishwarya Pillai

Lending your hand to global warming,

Anyhow, a farmer doesn't find it charming.

When the debt becomes bad, and clouds

fail to pour,

Son of the land, cry and roar.

For its hard to bear the crop's destruction,

From sugar to cotton, and other production.

Oh! look at the farmer's plight, Suicide..

it's the only weapon to fight!!

Constituting 50% of India's population,

They are still under speculation.

Over 12000 farmers lose their lives every year,

but none of us value his shed tear.

By Aishwarya Pillai