At Last Found

He lived in a small room here In this busiest town where people are busiest Always to find their own bread and butter Or to make resources for a bright future None is bothered to know things There is no such a thing as identity here All are flowing in the busy world Where he lives from his twenty first age onward Different jobs he done for a living Different people he met in the ways Alas! no one bothered where his identity lies At last the final day came as usual to everyone The day of final farewell he slept in coma The neighbors came and searched for his identity No where it is traced out at last it decided A man he was good to his life, but identity lost He is an orphan and may his body removed for cremation In a public burial ground with all formalities His identity lies in Public domain ever there.