Hubris

One day at the price of mud

Your bones will be sold

Of what remains of you in the world

Will be the stories that you told

The ones you were kind with

Will remember you with warmth and grace

The ones you were cruel to

Would be happy to see your name erased

The books that you wrote

Stored somewhere in the archive

Till it meets a lonely scholar

And you come back to life

ajay

 

Author: Ajay Ohri

http://about.me/ajayohri

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