Farmers Death

Inequality and Growth
April 2, 2019

I will mourn not your death,
Cause you only existed in words
For your silence has murdered
Many innocent lives, precious.
In the stillness of time, that refuses to pass by
A poet’s hope beyond life and death,
Conjures democracy like never before.
The wake of a new era is calling,
The silent commune of writers,
Lift thy, mighty fallen pen
And ink using the darkest of red,
Viscous blood to avoid many more
Shredding of life, in the name of the fallen kingdom.
The peasants of the land, lay still
Mother mourns, Father mourns, and Brother mourns,
The entire Nation mourns, the death of a farmer.
I will mourn not your death.
The writer is silent. I believe it is the real death.
The death of a mankind in the silence of a pen.
I mourn silence over the death of a farmer.