Just why?A Poem by Dennis Shanaberg
It feels like the world is coming apart at the seams,
Stitched together with the blood of young men's dreams. It feels like we're losing; we're throwing the fight, And in the end, with all we've done, we'll never get it right. The world is against us. Life isn't real. There's no one to pray to-- No one to take the wheel. So, we'll cry late into the night. Asking nothing and no one Why? Why am I here? What have I done? Why can't I just upper cut and run? What can I do? Why can't I see Where do we go when we cease to be? There's no answers out there, my friend. Nothing in textbooks or bibles. There's no solution that's final. There's always more, But it's somehow less. And with it all crashing down, we can only guess... Why am I here? What have I done? Why can't I just fly on through the sun? What can I do? Why can't I see What it is that I truly need? Why can't I remember any of my dreams? How can't I feel, if my heart can bleed? Why do I hate the places I've been Yet always dream of seeing them again? Life is just a lie A linear deception A splash in time. In the end, we all will die We are nothing Made out of something Realizing that god's on no one's side. © 2016 Dennis ShanabergReviews
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4 Reviews Added on October 27, 2016 Last Updated on October 27, 2016 AuthorDennis ShanabergMentor, OHAboutAbout my Life… It’s a preface far too long For anyone to read. It’s growing longer everyday. Filled with love and laughter, life and greed. more..Writing
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