Man is a very unthankful being. He becomes very proud when he achieves
something. He forgets that one day he will have to return everything to his
Lord, the almighty. He forgets that his time will come...and he will have to
get immersed in the same mud from which he was created...
This poem by ME is dedicated to all those proud people out there
who have this snobbish attitude due to their power, wealth or success...
Avoid pride...because pride hath a fall!
NOTHING
They are all talking of him
life like his is everyone's dream
he is rich playing with gold
to others' pain, his heart is cold
they know he's to appear on the scene
to catch his sight they've become too keen
he arrives in his huge luxury car
a host of armed guards, spread so far
they begin to scream and shout out loud
the alert guards taking hold of the crowd
sparkling black, his car rolls down
the tyres screech, trumpets are blown
the scarlet floor spread out long
awaits his feet, speakers blow a song
he pulls down the tinted window to see
the colors, the lights, the glamour, the glee
The black door opens, they hold their breath
To look at his majesty, they yearn to death
Hence appears a big, black, proud boot
Followed by him, in the best tuxedo suit
His hair fully gelled, Rolex in wrist
His specs shone in flashes, creating a mist
Once again they're out of control
Yelling his name, with all their soul
His gait so proud, he looks just perfect
Looking down on them, showing total neglect
Falling on each other, pushing and shoving
They're eager to look at the glory moving
Raising his arm, he begins to wave
Calling out for him, for his shadow they crave
He treads with raised chin, feeling like God
Such public reaction, for him, isn't odd
He knows that they all worship and love him
Considers none in the universe, above him
Walking towards his destination
His highness passes through luminous decoration
His first step on the marble stairs
He turns back and glances at the gloss and glare
A hand raises, holding a shimmering black metal
Then a loud sound, painful and fatal
Two shots in chest, one in head
The glory on the stairs, now lay dead
To save themselves, they all ran
No one stayed, neither guards, nor fan
He lay there forlorn, who in a second's swing
From center of razzmatazz, became mere nothing!
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