The Society Grows Sick Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
The Society Grows Sick
I lend not my hand
But spend to stand.
I mind bank balance
Not wife’s mind balance.
I caress not kids
But address for their comforts.
Each one earns to be big
And ends turning a pig.
The society is in isolation
And sick without consolations.
01.08.2007
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: isolation,kids,sick
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Poems By Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
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8/10/2026 4:14:28 AM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
