Long queue and the crowded chairs
Lots of cry, hue and tears
Whispering mouths and praying hands
Some patiently and impatiently
Silently waiting for their white god to come
It is for their god that they are here
Blank faces, stoned eyes
Curiously staring at each other
And wandering what others might be doing here
Lost in his burden the “white god” is yet come
Time will stop with each other little tiny drops
But no one complains
Leaving everything on their fate
Sitting silently at the corner
And being among one of them
I waited for “him” too
Thinking of what I ll do..
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