If the door was not a tiny crack
There would have been freedom
And the room did not stare gloomily
At the incompetence of identifying the sentiments
The ethos of going against everything
Just for the adamant desire of ransacking
It will be pretentious to escape
Through that crack, with such vainness
One is stuck in that rut
Strutting around with arrogance
Windows are nebulous too
Contentment in living with daily trepidation
Stuck here, and there, outside in perceptions
Jealous of this cage?
It’s the frenzy to be in that zone
Unlikely, the night will be lenient
For escaping through the crack
Fraught with risks of being typecast
Play the same role for survival
With a mask chosen by perceptions
~Amitav
