We All
One day, we all start to live.
Eventually, a new life we all give.
But in the end, we all still die...
I wonder then, why continue to try?
Is it some cause we all desperately follow,
Something that makes all of us feel less hollow?
Or do we all suffer through everything for no reason at all,
Apart from being so really afraid of Death's final call?
We all say that the point of life is in doing good,
Yet we don't do it, even though we all really easily could.
Does that make being evil our true purpose to stay,
Something we all deny, yet practice it every single day?
How can I know? I am not humanity's false God.
I don't define life's purpose, I merely point out the society's fraud.
We all have different opinions, after all. Some will agree, some will not
On the fact that we all are merely a sadistic, indifferent lot.
Copyright © Tom Burns | Year Posted 2016
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