Living in a cemetary

And life

What is it?

Why does it kill you?

Those who work hard to please the man up above 

But yet they still seem to fail him

Why?

People dying all around me 

Wishing I could save them 

It's like living in a cemetary, 

Those people who's hands have been wounded 

From all life's hard work

When is it my turn 

The day my hands will bleed and hurt 

The day when my smooth hands will become ruff 

And life, 

What is it?

If ill I do is work to live, and work to die 

Living in a cemetary,

With all the people you once knew who died,

Why is that? 

It's like living in a cemetary.

Reviews

[Terry Jarbo]

Taylorrose,

I have read several of your poems - keep writing HOPE is just around the corner
Without rain there are no flowers
Without clouds there is no shade
Without death there is no transition
Without sad memories there are no glab ones

Keep writing and the light of purpose will filter through and joy will flow like a river.

Terry