200 Friends

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There they sat,

Patiently waiting,

With a silent plea of acceptation,

Tainted with an air of desperation.

A hundred others sat,

In a room unknown,

Not talking, Not moving ,

Living in a bubble of their own.

Not many knew me,nor I them,

I just kept collecting,

Sorting them by roles,

Grouping them by needs.

It’s not their fault,

Not mine either,

We just sat there in each others vaults,

Squatting in a space which belonged to neither.

I refused to acknowledge them in daylight,

For knowing all along that I didn’t,

I drew a line,

And then a threshold.

I would collect only 200 of them,

Not a worthy person less, not a worthy person more.

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