Thomasine Dye

We Live Ourselves to Death


All the billions of the world

Dream trillions of dreams

All dream of reaching that peak

Of being la creme de la creme


Yet most live in silent obscurity

Doing much yet nothing at all

Their hopes, struggles, and very faces

None of them are to be recalled


“No matter to me, it’s a quiet life I want.”

Quiet? Oh, how few are granted even that!

A mountain of duties, demands, and disasters

Shall burden your ever weary and tired back


We live ourselves to Death

Squashing lifetimes into a single day

One must do, hear, and see all too much

Yet still, “They died too soon”, we always say