Dust To Dust
Our differences are only on the surface of our skin,
But peel it back—what lies within?
A structure bare, a frame, a core,
No name, no title—nothing more.
The end awaits both Trump and Tramp,
No crown, no throne, no final champ.
Beneath the flesh, we’re all the same:
A skeleton—just bone and frame.
No wealth, no pride, no fleeting fame,
Just ash and dust, the endgame’s claim.
So tread with grace, let kindness be your guide,
In the end, you lose your pride
Zaki Sema