Here the mind is processed
Here the thinking processed
And the food is processed.
Life is mechanically dead
Forgotten is d humanity
More stolid feel, in the city.
Living artificial less ideal
Growing material kill spiritual
Forgetting the roots to stand
Pretension is seen too grand
Money, matter and the luxury
Symonymous is: in the city.
Money and the wealth to save
Living like a material slave
Culture dying tradition sleep
when will we awake up alive
No one have a time to share
Where everyone is stranger
losing our identity in the city.
Street to street a neon hord
A signon the business board
aonoymous feel in the crowd
And my, self is speaking aloud
Pathos of a poet in the city.
©nepalpoet
N