Why do we live the lives that lead our loves to lie in a casket made from sorrow and regret?
Time slowly slipping through my fingers I hear naught but the clock ticking and the seconds waisted and the minutes draining and the hours running away into someone else's life only to run away,
Life is a bitch, it's a bastard, it's anything we want to call it to justify our sorrows and mistakes and regrets before we die and realise it was all a waist,
Why does the universe allow us to waist away, leaving nothing, as if we were never there?
Why do we go through life and educate ourselves and work ourselves to the bone?
To achieve happiness? Or is it just to make us feel better about our lonely lives through possessions and objects and toys even though we know when we die we die Alone, and if you won't die you live alone.
YOU ARE READING
My poems
PoetryThese are just a series's of different poems I write in my spare time, most of these are written to be spoken, some aren't meant to make sense, these are just to write down my thoughts in a way that makes me feel artistic For obvious reasons these a...
