Poem By Shanto Armonde
On this very day, in some bygone year,
You were born without worry or fear.
And now, tall and naive, you celebrate
Your nearing to that common fate.
Death, the inevitable, the inescapable,
Alike for both the innocent and culpable.
So blissful you are in your callow youth
Oblivious you are, so far from the truth.
Air fills with the chant of your wretched name,
A pathetic piece you are in a grander game.
You lack purpose, afraid of standing alone,
Doomed you were when you renounced control.
Flung helplessly by the tides of circumstance,
As all pass you by before your absent glance.
So all I want to say, is “try to have a nice day”,
Everyday, before your youth begins its decay!