An Epitaph


 

Here lies he who never really lived,
to Happiness, he was unknown.
Love naught but frowned at him,
Sorrow claimed him as her own.

Foolish he was, beyond all doubt,
and thus met his untimely end.
Solitude was his companion when he lived,
and Misery his inseparable friend.

Love wasn't meant for him,
he only brought him woes.
Pray that he may finally find peace,
in the land of eternal repose.

 

~ Rachit ~

 

More Poems By Rachit

Kavitanjali

 

© All Rights Reserved
Do not copy