by Shivam Pandya
A statistic maketh a man
The man becometh a number.
The track is long, winding,
With numerous hurdles thrown in at will,
And running, slaving on it,
Are the zombies, toiling with an inked till.
A statistic maketh a man
The man becometh a number
A blasphemy it is, on the track,
To have an emotive quality.
And digits of the numerical kind matter
More than a human personality.
A statistic maketh a man
The man becometh a number
The track ends where the rainbow does,
And the gold at the end is but a Leprechaun’s.
But instead of seeing the seven splendid shades,
He grabs the gold at the advent of dawn.
A statistic maketh a man
The man becometh a number
Time to be aroused
From a wakeful slumber.
Stop once and think,
Is the effort worth the number?
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ABOUT THE POET ~
I am a final year medical student in India. Apart from mugging terrible diseases and drugs, i write poems and stories. I have also completed my first novel. My blog is www.creationsofanamatuer.blogspot.com
