Strange to think there are people
out there, trapped inside
their own head;
Even stranger to think that those
People out there will die long
before they are dead.
Peculiar to ponder of those left cold,
By the emotions that fill up their brains;
Even more peculiar at that, as we grow old we are filled with different kinds of pains.
It's hard to imagine that people suffer,
Yet are so afraid to cry -
Even harder to imagine that we all want to live,
Yet no one seems scared to die.
YOU ARE READING
An Amalgamation of Words
PoetryI'm almost as bad at writing descriptions as I am at writing poems, but at least I tried. Sharing my inner turmoil, one poorly worded sentence at a time.
