POEM – Answers

What is a future if it seems blurry?
What is an answer if it is part wrong?
Is life worth living if you are halfdead?
Is peace worth the chaos caused to find it?
Life is an exile and brute wandering.
And like a bride bed full of blood, redWe are made of brains and brawns.
Yet it is no secret, we live like gamecock.
Waiting for the doing of our deaths.
We dig for the ashes of dead roses
To get to know the color of despair.
We use verbs, most of them tiring.
And try as much as we can not to lie
But say something in place of the truth.
A vow for us to bear in the nature of our being.
But the question still remains…

Why live if there is no worry for the dead?

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