While the moon cast its shadows
of mystery,I imagined
the skyline of a great city lights
and the dark shapes that skulk under,
within the territory
of my beloved motherland.
In the looking glass
Reflections of indigents,
taking complete reliance
on herbals of the soil
they toil to cure their illnesses
and sadly oftentimes descent them into graveyard.
Without a centavo
vision of fare treatment past gone.
Most poor patients were untouched
because of their 'empty pocket' looks,
struggling from some apalling hospital crews.
I myself had witnessed few of these scenes;
How they struggled through the hurricane-force wind,
swimming the dangerous and chaotic seas
just for a tablet of paracetamol,
just to get a bed on the crowded ward
just to.....paint faint memories by candlelight.
They passed high foam-tipped waves
to survive the tempestous day.
But most of the time they painfully face
the cruel medical practitioners' ethos
of redundancy and self-sufficiency
that were designed for money,not charity
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