Human Strugle
Each day remains,
the last is gratefully gone,
the next holds mystery,
what will be will be,
whats next for me?
Can I rewrite my destiny?
Like a line in a poem?
Can I recreate home?
Everything seems set in stone,
Like the carvings on a stone.
Finality and reality,
being born human is a strugle.
Copyright © Kenneth Padgett | Year Posted 2015
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