A misfortune,
A ripple in the fabric sheets we sleep our lives away in,
Our days are filled with others,
To keep us warm,
Like the winter covers on the beds we lay in.

Our life is brittle even when we feel we can't be shaken,
In an instant our little existence can be crushed and overtaken,
Sometimes another's life gives breath to our subsistence.

We never count on evil sprouting through the earth of our delights,
But I will love the ones I love albeit they're stolen from my sight.
Experience etches the paths of our lives,
Cut deep in our souls like the passing of knives,
From nadir to zenith, from darkness to light.

A quality,
A worthwhile trait,
A smile on lips
That can't see it's own fate,
Tell those that you love that you love them today,
Because no one can tell when they will be spirited away.