Life
The sword of time will pierce our skin,
It doesn't hurt when it begins,
Inching slowly in,
Watch for the razor's grin,
At first it only bleeds but a trickle,
But life wants more for it is fickle,
Life is a knife to the aware,
Cutting pain to share,
So it pours upon the floor,
But life laughs and asks for more,
Tiled black and white, smooth cares,
The floor of dreams rips and tears,
The bloody puddle grows ever deep,
But life goes on without a peep,
So into the warm embrace,
We fall without a trace.
Copyright ©2006 Delmina DeSousa
