I see a man waiting patiently for the bus,

His deliberate footsteps quack with thump,

I know a man, sagged with baggage

carrying conscious in their pockets—

He doesn’t talk, he just nods.

I’ve seen a man, leaving shadows

with their formidable friends, but his tiring

gaze triumph over the nursing flame—

He’s just a man in bone and flesh.

I know a man who doesn’t know how

to love back, but waits for her everyday

in the long queue, I know a man lost

in the childish game but holds his mother’s

hand tight to sleep at night.

I’ve seen a man to stand for hours,

Just to be the shelter in case of rain,

I’ve seen a man to hold his guilt trip

with the traffic bees, so nobody stirred,

Nobody coughed.

I know a man waiting for the seven thirty

train, so unconscious of the torn sleeves—

His heart, bleeding in the river sands,

But—he turns his back.

Now I see a man, lost in the sprinting

spring, driving the car so harsh,

waiting for the penalty brush,

living hours in the trackless world.

I know a man wanting to be touched,

where they don’t just sigh and die,

He weeps without weeds in her lap,

letting out his complex river sands,

I know a man who just doesn’t know how to express.

— 21st November, 2024.

. . .

To the men out there, this is for you!