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Poem

Three in number are the so valued events in modern life,
Yet each are harbors of  different types of strife,
Each having a separate sharpness although all are part of the same knife,
Opening with the deceitful crown known as a birthday,
In youth it is all you await to say,
With treasured time constantly passing your age turns it into just another loathed day,
Weddings so vile and juvenile,
The average conjoining of two families for love of two who must find a way cause they be
with child,
When divorce happens perhaps next time you'll know in the beginning it's not worth while,
The truth-teller and savior of this winding game called life is only our tomb,
Funerals are our cradle and our release to death the truest womb,
Pray it comes swifter than any lightning and twice as powerful as any thunder's boom,
Each are simple and basic facts,
Each in their way cause enough for an all out war but absent are those who are actually
prepared to attack,
Until that long awaited rebellious revolution to the darkest embraces I shall slip back.

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