Life

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Life

A precious gift we should be thankful for
But we always find ourselves wanting more
I want to believe there'll be no end
The idea of death, certainly not my friend

I go on living everyday
Never thinking I might die today
Always taking for granted what isn't seen
Each second of life, each day, what's it mean?

Happiness, love, friendship, and faith
It's all a dream from which I'll wake
Suffering, pain, tragedy, and death
How can there be joy in this mess?

Jesus Christ has conquered the grave
Is it true? It's what they say...
The treasure of faith, of something to believe
To know you'll be someplace else when you leave

Children, they play, they laugh, they dream
Seeing an innocent world, or so it seems
And when we grow and open our eyes
We see the world and create our disguise

And when that day comes we all will see
What the meaning of life will be
Until then we live and pretend
The truth will come out in the end

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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

serenity10’s Poems (20)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Incomplete 0
The Whole 0
I forever Bleed 1
Tribute 1
Discovery 0
Rejected 1
Pure Misery 1
Getting By 0
Regret 0
Me 0
Fly Away 0
Constant Emptiness 0
Life 0
Running 0
Peace 0
Toilet Paper Blues 0
Solid Ground 0
Understand 0
Perfection 0
Journey to Heaven 0