Long week.
Lost.
The most glories battle is not to win,
but when the fight is in vain.
To live is pain, death a sweet game.
So why should we continue this.
This life of half truths and whole lies,
living after your inside has died.
Happiness is brief, gone in a flash.
Yet the pain is here to last.
They say hope is a great liberator,
but it seams a crushing weight.
Hoping for the future,
just trying to live past today.
Author notes
Written January 10th, 2005
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Right On!!
I ask those questions eveyday. Great use of words. I don't think anything is missing from this poem. -
Good write. I think we all feel like that at points. Thank god they pass or we'd all also always feel like a big puddle on the floor. But anyway. You've captured the emotion beautifully! Wonderful write keep up the good work!
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humm... I'm sorry??... this is a good write! i shall appluad!
~kittie*
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