How many footprints pass.
I can’t recognize their class.
I sometimes become the bed,
for a weary and poor person.
I am a witness of people’s deeds,
Their old and modern version.
How many seasons do run.
Coolness of clouds, shine of sun.
While sleeping without a quilt,
some needy guys shiver in winter.
I wish I was a cold place in summer,
for those poor people who whimper.
How many reasons are there.
They really want a pure care.
I am sometimes mental asylum,
for the pious, mental, pure frame.
I’m sorry that I am unable to stop
illicit molesting happening to them.
How many scenes in one world,
as like lot meanings of one word.
Some have expensive cars,
someone is pulling a rickshaw.
Some throw food, some pick it up.
Is this the straight nature’s law?
How many people are homeless.
On the other side some hopeless.
Flood washes away their homes,
to protect them I can’t be the roof.
But ask me about their horrid lives,
I can show you their rare pain’s proof.
How many outlaw procedures,
Cannot be cut with any scissors.
Oftentimes people litter and spit,
people break the rules of traffic.
I imagine, If I had hands and feet,
I would change the road’s graphic.
How many misdoings are running,
atmosphere seems like cunning.
Beware while walking on footpath
that you are providing loss or gain.
Because the footprints may disappear
but their endless effects remain.
.
Copyright@Layeba Humanity
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