To the Hell it was…

Posted: February 16, 2012 in So called Poetry

No it wasn’t a boarding house of fun,
rather, a hell with cubicles, all 6×6,
one where carpet was vacuumed daily,
for health and hygiene and to clean.
but the smell of tedium never faded,
and lights out were never too early,
Air conditioners hummed ceaselessly,
the air chilled to a crisp in summer,
and caked dry in winter, But hell is
always clogged, cuz it’s always a hell,
with colored mails and fake passions.
Some of them tried to hide or rescue,
with pretty doonas, posters & ribbons,
succeeded only in painting everything
with a dismal blend and no soothing.
& then Hell graffitied, marked the place,
“We don’t care, whatever hue and cry”
But then some offenders survived Hell,
And so did I…

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