Your life is like a long string,
Sometimes it frays,
With thousands of choices,
And sometimes it is wound so tight,
You feel constricted.
That thread is woven,
Into a great piece of cloth,
Made with all the livings threads,
Showing who you will meet,
And who you belong with.
Eventually your string ends,
And fades out of the cloth,
Your deeds are not remembered,
And your name forgotten
