You fuddled soul!
Are you inebriated?
Why have you become inert
Slack
Slothful?
Why aren’t you coming out of your languor?
Is this torpor ineludible?
And you fuddy-duddy
Old fogey?
You are all stick-in-the-mud
Barbaric
square
Stuffed
shirt.
You don’t know
How the frozen froth of forestalling
One day can create carnage…
On that black day of holocaust,
You’ll not be able to escape…
Even carcasses will demand an answer…
Carouse…
Have a ball…
Raise the roof
Go on the town
Paint the town red…
But ponder for a while
Before you go on a binge…
Samita CHATTOPADHYAY
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