Hospital
Medical treatment
A vain luxury for some
Length of death pain extends
Till money is drained enough
From longer pockets
Stars fall down
From their unfathomable heights
Doves brutally stoned
In the tin-coated iron boxes
That move intermittently
Before our blind eyes
Lie paralyzed bodies
Of infants, to be received
Unnoticed by anyone
From a remote, dark corner
Of the premises.
True, it smells a rat…
Blood gushes out
From the deep wounds of pain
Sore heart burns black
Like a burning wick
About to go out
For want of oil.