Rise in life is a vanity.

Every rise in your status
Makes you rigid to stoop.
Love that in-flows is false.
Love that out-flows is stagnant.
At last, you end up as useless,
An empty barrel in vanity.
A creeper that hardened to a tree.
29.05.2002, pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!