Sometimes I sit and pounder
And let my mind wander
The question of life.
Why do some of us die without a wife?
Why do some of us die early on?
Maybe we were never supposed to see the dawn.
I sometimes wish life was different.
Would it be insignificant?
I long for love.
But I dream about it when life gives me a shove while wearing a glove.
As if I was toxic.
And while I'm on the topic.
Why do I make my family suffer?
For them, life is rougher.
Why do my friends feel the pain?
Like a bite from a great dain.
All because of me.
I want to be filled with love and glee.
But I want my mother to be happy again.
I want my father to be happy again.
The only way I see it happening is if I leave.
But the world shall grieve.
In the early morning,
I sit being boring,
And question if all of this is for something bigger.
But I may die by the trigger.
My lonely heart is filled with love but also with hate.
I say it on this date.
I make everyone I love suffer.
Now that life is tougher,
I sit in the dark,
Hearing the barks,
Wondering why,
Sooner or later all alone,
I'll die,
And I'll never be known.
YOU ARE READING
Life
PoetryA poem I just did off the top of my head after listening to the album, "In the wee small hours of the morning." It was made by the king of swing, Frank Sinatra.
