Guilt trip

 I walk through a busy street in my city,

Faces around me, some tense and some in a hurry.

Some having conversations with a smile,

A blush, a laugh or a bluff.

Domes and arches, red bricked and scarred.

The scorching sun over my head,

Overwhelms me beyond distress.

I feel like I can't breathe, not a tree in sight 

Whose shades I can use to rest.

Concrete highrises provide me no respite.

I look up at the scarce clouds,

With no sign of rains, I curse inwardly

And resume my journey again.


You caused this, says a voice in my head.

The machines, the buildings, everything in between

You can't breathe for your own deeds. 

Its up to you, not me, Mother Nature screams.

The rivers are drying up, water scarce

The guilt hits suddenly as I enter the air conditioned building

The suffocating feeling leaves me cool slowly

Yet I am engulfed in another guilty inkling.

In between our soggy paper straws, brown papers

Expensive cars and holiday jets,

Where do we draw the line

Between comfort, luxury and a better future?

~ Suranya



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