Stuck in the middle of this roaring road
I don’t know if the vehicle is the vehicle
Or my life is; I can no longer bear this load,
Poor me! I’m incapable of doing any miracle.
Troubled times these are that I’m living in.
What a pity, the flowers are dying, no one waters them.
Mean world this is, oh, so, so, mean!
Yet I have to bow my head and call you ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’.
Mortal we are, one day we’ll die.
Why do we care so much to show our might,
And turn a truth into a lie?
I’m done with this life; I give up this gory fight.
Copyright © 2013 RAMU DAS
Ramu Das 
Life becomes complicated when you start asking “why?” I find that asking, “why not?” makes for a more peaceful contemplation of life. A very expressive poem! Well written. 🙂
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Thanks, Cubby. 🙂 Some “whys” are difficult to comprehend. So, it is better to live and let live.
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