MY LIFE

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    MY LIFE


            They say when you're born you sign a brand new lease,
            But, when death comes knocking at your door they say you've 
       finally found your longed for peace.

          When we first start out we're just very small seeds,
          But within our mothers we grow like weeds.

          Then finally comes happy the day of our births,
          Our first picture's placed on the fireplace hearth.

          Mommy holds us Lovingly all wrapped in her arms,
          While Daddy has a way with his own little charms.

          They bathe and feed us every day,
          They make sure we're Loved in every way.

          We get older and then we start school,
          They want us to learn the Golden Rule.

          We make good grades and our parents are proud,
          But then we get older and meet the wrong crowd.

          They introduce us to a thing called pot,
          It makes us feel good so we smoke a lot.

          Then one day pot isn't enough,
          So we start taking pills and other stuff.

          Some go on searching never seeming to find,
          While others die and leave their families behind.

          Some quit using and make a good life,
          They become faithful husbands or a Loving wife.
       
          I had a baby when I was just sixteen,
          I was still a baby myself it seemed.

          I was married at seventeen,
          But he was heartless ruthless and mean.

          I've been married two times since then,
          It seems as though I'll never win.

          People judge those like you and me,
          Who do they think they are, what do they think they'll 
       see?

          So don't stand there in all your Glory thinking you 
       can pick and choose,
          For you can't truely judge me until you've walked in my
       shoes.

          That my friend, I don't think you can do,
          Because I myself haven't yet made it through.

          That's enough of the story for now,
          It's time to go and make life better somehow.


                                                Cynthia Brown








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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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