We all burn the same.
The king, the pauper
and the acid dropping dame,
the miserable old hangman,
sad and in pain;
The lovers of lust
and happiness and shame,
the wanderers, the wonder’rs
and the seekers of fame;
The father, the son
and the orphan in the rain,
the ruler, the rebel,
and the sniper taking aim;
The vermin of society
and the fireman just the same,
The intellectuals and philosophers
and the clinically insane;
We all burn the same.
By: Viraj Belgaonkar
We are definitely all the same, once the last breath leaves us.
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