A poem penned in freshest ink,

Another event that makes you think,

What is the cause of life and death?

In the midst of sorrow- who will succumb to Satan's breath?

Another sigh, another tear,

A staring contest that lasts all year,

Into the eyes of something we can't defeat,

When your enemy is self defeat.

What do you do,

When staring at you,

Is the reason that you can't understand,

Reach out to touch them,

But only glass meets your hand.

When reality splatters,

Like red tempra paint,

Realize you aren't,

And never were a saint.