Reality

Life is becoming too mechanical
We don't feel shouthern breeze
Even in last four decades never
Get chance to dip my legs in the
river
Don't remember when I last chased
a butterfly
Life has become confinement in
a box
Windows are not open but found
in the display
Foods are not cooked but ordered
in the sky
The sky is netted by web of internet
Don't feels the flavour of green field
or dairy
Life is becoming too materialistic 
Time is there for job club and hobbies
But not for the babies
Progressing everyday at the cost of love
Going further away from all the people 
that helped us grow up
We are in a format and taking the shape
It is nothing but modern day's slaves.