I Want To Die Rich Poem by Kavya S Babu

Nothing left to do,
Lone at home,
Daily visits
Of occasional chatterers,
Nothing to bother,
A coexistence;
peaceful,
with solitude.

Every bit of things
Drag in memories;
Lost paradise,
Neither am I excited,
Nor drunken low,
But embraced by a serene
afternoon warmth;
A nothingness
In abundance!

I do hear
chats; indistinct,
Logs breaking,
A call from nowhere
and the story; incredible
Of a gentleman,
Blabbered by people
I barely know.

Amn't I dying rich?
Death may confirm
If there is atleast
A few pals, somewhere
To send a deep sigh
Of memories we made.