Is it the loss of a life or a relief from strife?
Is it moving along or our final song?
Death occurs in time.
It blurs the lines.
So defined within our minds.
We find that its hazy.
We think maybe?
After its worse.
So we coerce.
We come up with excuses.
We become recluses.
We contemplate.
Or we hate.
The things we did in spite of knowing what was right.
Are we on trial?
Or should we just die with a smile?
About the Creator
ROBERT COLE
I wrote poetry while I was dealing with a lot of dark feelings. My titles usually include anxiety because its usually what bring about my questions. I have these questions and sometimes the poems I write help to sort out those feelings.
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By Barbara Gode Wiles7 days ago in Fiction
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