Rhyme and Reflection

Spinning life’s chaos into laughs, stories, and verses — because therapy is expensive

Living the Dead Life

Sunday, May 23, 2010 | 1 minute read

As an eight year old, he lived like a king
Immersed in the little world with a baby zing
Soon he was forced to imbibe the knowledge drink
to long for the day when he could live and sing

In his youth, he chased the dream job
Other time, he raced for the beautiful girl with a bob
Planning to live someday when he had his time to lob
Forgetting the present, he was riding the future cob

Now a dad, he constantly cared
Worrying about his children all day, he prayed
His life only revolved around them and not shared
Eclipsed by the shadow of his family, change he not dared

Slowly growing old, his body buckled and refused
Although the world and the green prompted to be seduced
He could not bring his body to cooperate or enthused
The dream still remained, immense and profused

Now lying pale on his deathbed
He realized a little too late instead
He had died long back, life that he never lived nor led
Today, only his body was getting ready for the heavenly bed


© 2025 Subu Sangameswar. All original content. All rights reserved. For permission to reuse or reproduce any part of this work, please contact the author.
Related Articles