Untitled

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We're all selfish aren't we
We let minutes roll into hours
Hours into days
Days into months

Fair is fair we say
Everybody is busy on a daily
Communication ties are harshly severed
It's the hustle, some claim
Others over-do,
In a bid to show they have a fix on their lives

But when Lives die out
And bodies lay cold in morgues
Our selfish claims reach the peak
"Death, oh why Death"
"Why couldn't you take me instead"

We wear black attires
As if
Color shades will be respite for our blackened souls
We cry a river
Out of momentary emotions
"She was so full life"
"He was a gem"
As if we really knew them

After Eulogy is done
Snacks are served
Jokes go round to lighten the mood

We stare for a minute
Into the wild
Like a man making a new resolve

But no,
We don't change
The cycle continues from where it left off


Hustle continues
As if when another dies
The same hustle won't cough out money
To take care of his/her wake


Hustle continues
To show off how hard we've been working
As if when the same asked for help
We didn't say,
Bro, I'm broke - hustle never pay

Yes we never really care
Except there's something to be gained from there
And I'm not pointing fingers
Even I can't wash clean off this stain.




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