Remnants Of Life Poem by Samya Bose

Lonesome in the vibrant room,
Staring at the wall;
She was all doom and gloom
But barely expressional.

Her blue veins came
Out of hiding,
Shriveled skin, as if became
Committed to shedding.

Wrinkles were so alive
All over her face;
She was striving to survive
The venom of disgrace.

Feeble limbs carrying
Her languid drooping torso,
Looked tired of bearing
And literally were so.

Escaping from present
She used to resort to her past,
Seemed to be so pleasant
But not too long would last.

Even her undemanding company
Was unwelcome to the most,
Though it was a tragic irony,
For them she persevered the most.

Her instinctive fidgeting
And candid utterance,
Often being reacted with taunting
Or annoyance.

Uncompromising was even her scion,
Unhesitant to unveil her triviality;
But it went into their mere oblivion
That they owed her their prosperity.

She could expect ignorance
Or extravagant sympathy,
But never the due importance
Or a smidgeon of empathy.