I am lost amidst the crowd,
So homogenous that no one notices,
Black in the night,
Golden in the morning,
And Incognito the whole day
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I feel like a pamphlet,
Lying on the roadside,
Waiting to get attention,
Trying to get the dust off,
Somehow holding the ink
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My availability, mistaken,
My attention, taken for granted,
My requirements, ignored,
My views, judged and
My absence, desired.
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I am that beat on the drum,
Which got subdued in bass,
That horn of a scooter,
Which drained in truck’s honk
Present but still absent.
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