A Sense of Waste
Though death is not an end
Still we cry when near and dear one dies
But I do not because of the fact of their dying
I do feel sad when I see, they did not know
What life was! Though they became parents
But never tasted love, so sorry is the state that
Some even did not know themselves let alone
To know others, truth appeared to them
So bitter that they always kept telling lies .
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