Wicked World
Some are born lucky others die waiting for something good
Wicked World
Wicked world, why was I born?
Surely not to struggle,
not to wake each day
with my soul torn.
It doesn’t seem right
to hurt this way,
to smile and say “I’m fine”
when I’m breaking every day.
I sleep real late,
wake too early.
Why does life treat
us triers so unfairly?
My motto is simple:
Live just to survive.
No matter how bad,
at least I’m alive.
But the universe?
It seems out to break.
Some take and take,
and all of it feels fake.
So what is life?
Someone define.
You say it’s shared,
what’s yours was never mine.
give and I bend
but still get the blow,
they call it growth.
Just what does it show?
They preach about light
and finding your way,
but where’s that path
on a pitch-black day?
Please Don’t talk to me
of blessings and fate
some of us rise
while some just wait.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (3)
Wow, again you sent us a surprise poem. That is a real fact, what we have to face in life, well written, and good luck.
Nice
Good job and so true of the world today.