By B.Murali Krishna
We're celebrated, our stars shining bright.
As long as we're productive, our worth's in sight.
But falter we must, and oh, the shame,
Shunned by the same who once knew our name.
Like autumn leaves, our value fades,
After retirement, our worth in memories shades.
From riches to rags, our story's told,
A life of service, with a legacy to hold.
We're punished for faults not our own,
A scapegoat's burden we're forced to atone.
We say "no" to requests, and oh, the cost,
Our relationships are strained; our love is lost.
A bitter truth we must face,
That our worth is measured by our productive pace.
But still we hold on to our dignity and pride,
And hope that someday our true worth will not subside.
By B.Murali Krishna
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