Old habits are hard to die,
Believe me, good sir, I never lie.
For everything I am always late
No matter how difficult be my state
Deadlines stare me in the eye
And mockingly go by
While I remain where I am
And act indifferent to shame
But a solid desire for being on time
Is now in me, like never before, roused
I now consider being late a grievous crime
And tomorrow, I hope, this desire is not so easily doused.
Copyright © 2017 RAMU DAS
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 