A labourer stands alone, fatigued with work and pain,
A ruthless master implies no more gain,
He begs for more, just a little bit more,
Receives lashes till his back is sore,
He returns home, hopeful eyes stare at him for a while,
He shakes his head with a disappointed smile.
A doctor he is, tired and exhausted,
Stares at the next patient having his blood clotted,
He works twenty hours without a break,
So many commitments he failed to make,
As his next patient retches blood and bile,
He takes him in with a disappointed smile.
A soldier he is, stands tall and upright,
And feels proud of the army’s might,
But the person controlling him, he knows,
No ethics, no righteousness, after money he goes,
The soldier feels betrayed as he marches another mile,
He looks up at the flag with a disappointed smile.
A journalist he is, strong and bold,
To the worlds wrongs his attitude is cold,
He travels and writes about the wrongs in this world,
Of the people and places of high ranks, laurels and low morals,
But as he stands and stares at his rejected file,
His cold eyes do not connect to his disappointed smile.
A student he is, a frustrated engineering one,
Three years into it and wondering what he has done,
A lot of thoughts cloud his mind,
A small voice saying that everything will be fine,
He sees his friends, in the rain, play,
Their faces and limbs covered with mud and clay,
He stands there watching, the wind teasing his hair,
He tries to fake a impassive stare,
He closes his eyes, letting the tension pile,
He looks up and wears a disappointed smile.