The Irony

By Samyasathi Mukherjee

Not a single fish peeps

its tip out of water,

to lay its fortune down

and a hungry beak

above a cliff

drops her neck to mourn there.

And there those men with nets,

are always there to

gather happiness and strength

down the sea.

Trapped in cages for honey

forgot to fly those bees,

the rising high concrete walls,

we martyr a trillion trees.

By Samyasathi Mukherjee