Exhale some contempt out of your lungs,
Cleanse that dirty tongue.
Lower the heaved chest,
Lather that heart; grimed with dirt.
For this life's a test,
Billions of candidates,
You; a speck of dust among the rest.
Those jewels, those fancy dresses you adorn your body with,
Are nothing but filth.
Take a moment and think,
Seclude yourself and let the reality sink.
In the blink of an eye,
All air might whoosh out of your lungs,
Under the ground, you might lie.
In the snap of a finger,
Your decorated body might turn into a foul smelling rotten mass,
In the air, your soul might linger.
So spit the pride, embrace gratitude,
For life shall never cease its efforts to delude you.
A/N:
Be grateful while you still have it .
YOU ARE READING
Symmetry
Poetry"There is Sun and storm in every blossoming. That is where the poetry lives" All rights reserved to @destellos_, 2016.
