Passport

Passport - Poem - Inktober - Day 7

It feels like eating an apple made of bitter gourd

Asking assistant, but getting answer out of bard

Lots of tension in the street

To not let you go ahead, they cheat

When trying to go to your destination

Driver stops abruptly without hesitation

Nothing goes your way, so pave your own

Road becomes so lonely, you don't even get a telephone

It feels like playing tennis in a glass court

Because to reach your heart, it feels like I need a passport