I see the world flooded with atrocities and tribulations

Drought of courage and spirits going barren,

The light of hope dimming, getting sucked into a den.

No way I can help suffering women and men,

And I am all but sure, it’s beyond my ken.

I stop, I think and then look for my pen.

Somewhere folks are crying and dying of hunger and starvation.

At some corner, food will be thrown as flavor wasn’t a sensation.

Thank God for every bite, wasting food is a crime,

Remember the message divine,

I am putting across through a rigmarole of mine.

Mightier than sword they say, is this gem,

You sure are a true friend, my dear pen!

The guns, the blood and the nuclear races.

The injustice, inequality and the colorful races.

Why are people obsessed with these trashes?

Thank God I have one haven,

When I find myself weak and craven,

I am yearning for the company of the pen.

Let’s hope for a world of happy and elated,

No war widows and no child neglected.

Sitting overwhelmed with the greatness of a pen,

The useless Mandeep prays for it, amen.