Nosebag Poem by nimal dunuhinga

A bag of fodder for a horse hung from the horse's head,
Allow it to eat at will.
Something like this is better if a man get nowadays?
Like the horse he too runs in the life-marathon for his daily bread.
In this ridiculous Drama,
Rich goes to the sky without rockets,
And the poor become poorest.
The bourgeoisie crawls on the expandable 'Globalization'.
And he dies on the road of starvation like a stray dog.