When death to the world everyone is,

You awake and yawn and arise,

To rob the weak no chance you miss.

Yet, all you have for them is malice.

Take away your filthy money!

I desire none of your riches.

Wish more, make merry, oh honey,

But tomorrow find only ashes.

From the slumber when the weak awake,

Then hesitatingly you’ll amendments make.

What will you do for your sustenance?

For question will they your very existence.

Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS