A Bitter Pill.
If there is a Flaw in lifeIs it that we have to die?
Our bodies frail and marked by strife
It matters How! Not why
As the years have passed before us
They will surely take their toll
The tears, the pain, the loss of trust
All leave their marks upon the soul
For some they have to leave to soon
While others seek release
There are those that never reach full bloom
Before their breath will cease
Some believe it is Gods will
And in him they put their trust
But for most it is a bitter pill
And the short end of the crust
The fires of Hell rage in me
Yet my tears will quench them not
As I lay a flower upon the grave
Of one who but briefly left the cot.
Poetry by penfold18
Read 1310 times
Written on 2008-04-22 at 10:44
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by penfold18 Latest textsForest of Bere.The Witch. A Soft Spot For The Roses. The Enemy God Willing |
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