People ask, "What is life?"

Is it a gift from someone

Greater than we?

Or is it a form of torture

That we all go through

Who are our friends?

Or, in fact, what are friends?

Is there pleasure?

Or is it all pain?

What is life?

We ask once again

And the answer comes back

Disappointingly sad

It is a form of torture so bad

We don't even realise

This fact of our sad lives

'Life is a bitch' someone said once to me

'And then we die' but still our spirit isn't free

It is taken up, or dragged right down

And so at last our fate is decided,

(For good or for bad)

By someone greater than we