His Own Doing

time passes slowly with every moment
he's got his end in his hands
he pauses so that his past he can lament
no use now, it's too late he understands

selfishness was his only religion
reassuring himself that he was still good
but reality had to teach him a lesson
a lesson he would remember yes he would

he never thought that others matter
everything was for his own gigantic ego
friends or personal gain, he chose the latter
always right, never let that illusion forego

now when he looks back, he weeps
coz he's been an ache to everyone
every thought becomes a tear that seeps
inside of him, to his death he's done


jsjv

by Jasjiv Singh

Other poems of SINGH (70)

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