It's quite foolish for us to assume
that we'll always have more time.
Matter not the doom and gloom
death comes even when you're fine.
No one really wants to admit it, but
our time is finite, and always will be.
Life will pound you right in the gut
in numerous ways we'll never foresee.
We all enter this world mad and crying
and some of us will depart that way too.
Do your best living, rather than dying
making great efforts to see things through.
In the end we'll all end up in the ground
but will we land there still lost or found?
YOU ARE READING
Sonnets
PoesíaA collection of poetry written in a specific rhyme pattern. I hope you enjoy reading these sonnets as much as I did writing them.
