...And Unto Dust.A Poem by Dennis Shanaberg
When I was little, I thought all our lives were infinite
That all of us were either hellbound or hopeful heaven sent. The life you lead decides the endlessness you get, But now I know, every breath's nothing more than blood-let rent. We are temporary The end is scary And we'll fight it, like it's for our lives. This life's a lie, And then you die. But this is all that you get: A whisper spoken in the ear of death. Please don't take me; I don't wanna go. There's too many days that I spent to low. Grovelin' in the dirt, trying to make ends meet. Been punching cards till my fists got weak. And what a week it's been. Can you remind me what I did again. It's a blur. A washed-out watercolor of what I wish I'd been. What I wish I'd said. Places, people, things I've never seen Paradise lost to placate my greed All for addictions that I was told I had to feed Cuz what I want's never been the s**t I need. I will leave in a casket A decomposing basket A shell of a life Into one last good night. But I'll live on with those That remember me Until they move on Then, I'll cease to be. My life of waiting Is a memory fading Away to dust And unto dust. © 2017 Dennis ShanabergReviews
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3 Reviews Added on January 3, 2017 Last Updated on January 3, 2017 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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