the point in living

 We live our lives then we die. So whats the point in living. Maybe one thing, love. We all have loved, cared, & charished. Love is like a butterfly, one second its there, and the next its gone. To many tomes that has happened to me. I dont know how many more times I can take it. If this this is what life is like then whats the point in living. Everytime its alot more difficult to put the pieces back together. One more time and I dont know what will happen, deppression, murder, suicide. Who knows but all I can say is it hurts way to bad.

Reviews

[Alex Crow]

Nice bringing togeher of love and depression. Good job

[Vivere ad mihi, mi Deus]

Love can be a very dubious thing, but we all fall for it once in our lives, and if we don't i don't think they have lived life. Heartbreaks always hurt, and i know the feeling. But the good thing about it is there is always hope :) If it is true love then they will come back, and if they don't then it was not meant to be. It can be a strained thing in life, but you are still young, enjoy your years while you can. And don't let love kill you, it can be the worse pain you will ever feel... But get through that and you can get through anything.

[Allan Eddings]

A piece that teeters on the brink of two possible conclusions: that life is worthwhile and beautiful or that it is ugly and worthless. Hanging there it would seem that there lies but two choices. If I may be so bold, and I always am, I shall suggest that the poem ignores a third option: that life is simply beautiful.

The existence of just one person is so improbable that it can only be called miraculous - without any need for God or Gods - Events with astronomical odds of occurring. Against unfathomable probabilities, it is you - only you - that emerges into existence. To distill so specific a form, from all the chaos of life. It can only be called miraculous. There is I think only one sin in life it is the failure to realise the implacable grandeur of this existence, because of despair or because of holding out for another life hereafter.

Beauty is at the same benign and tyrannical. Existence is to feel, it is to be happy, or sad, pained or joyous. Live a life of sensation not of thought.

My own ramblings come to an end, and I will say I enjoyed this piece's raw emotion. I hope to see more.

Regards,
A.E.