Strolling around the city,

Masked; with utmost anonymity.

Bicycles moved about with ease,

Pushed by an uneasy breeze.

 

Below a bridge were few men;

Some needy, some crestfallen.

My camera shook and trembled

As it captured some disabled.

 

Walking back home felt heavy,

I no more felt any hungry;

Awake for the rest of the night,

Troubled by the inflicting sight.

 

I sat along with fear and stress,

Heaviness right inside my chest,  

While the politicians and the press

Slept freely in their cute mattresses.

 

The next morning was tough,

Walking down that road was rough,

To watch another weak, bleak shadow

Below the bridge, gradually grow.