Living hell

What is this living hell?
Where you don’t meet the living
Don’t care for the grieving
Where funerals are get-togethers
And promises to stay in touch blown away as feathers

Lost the very next day in life’s “deadlines” to meet
Where it’s too much effort to greet
Too much strain to shed a tear
Too much restrain to hug a dear

We push each other and rush to finishing line
No time ask close ones if they are fine
To them we say “I will talk some other time”
And then they are no more and we pine

Yet again continue our race
Knowing the destination is no place
But only just that-the end.
Slow your pace
Or you will go without a trace