Upper Hand
Free will and choice, we think we know,
the high road calls our name.
But man's destruction arises low
in a part we just can't tame.
And evil's there, in quiet repose,
we rap it's hollow door.
And here we sit for what we chose
as they tally the final score.
Of all the battles we fought within,
none matter but the last.
An epic struggle set to begin
from which our destiny is cast.
In the afterlife of death's staid pale,
too late to take a stand,
will eternity be in heaven or hell?
We must await the upper hand.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
