Daily Die Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

No doubt
When we talk about
Death
And last breathe

It is destined
And well defined
No a minute earlier
Or not a minute later

Even though it is clear
Still I am gripped by fear
The innocent people daily die
Despite o much appeal and sincere try

It has been made like mad race
Where people are forced
To the jaws of death
And lastly breathe

We take solace
And face
Such deaths silently
As it might have been decided by an almighty