In this eternal race of life and death
I look for a pit-stop
But there aren't any left
Without dropping down dead.
In the rat race of money, power and fame
It seems life is an unbalanced, terrible game
Where there's everything to blame
But nothing to gain.
But press on we would
Sailing towards the island of death
where all man's ships would dock
And eternal rest awaits round the clock
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Random poems
PoetrySong-like poems made mainly for the fun rhyming effect than anything else. No deep meanings, no complicated and flowery language; just good-old random poems.
