Date: Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Time: 8:18a.m

Life is a fairytale gone wrong

With no birds singing songs;

While some believe in dreams,

Others devise evil schemes.

A robber may steal a purse,

Then end up in a hearse,

Or he might get away—

Not to be poor another day.

Who decides the karma here?

Who makes the days, months, years?

If you meet them, dear friend,

Tell them I'd like to meet them.

The oceans are tears.

The sky created from fears—

In need of a cover

Because we don't want to be under

The clue-hidden ground

With no one around.

Life is too short

With friends and cohorts;

But I say it's too long

When everything goes wrong.

But you wouldn't know, I see

Because I took away that key

That kept you alive.

Yet I have not died.

So is that fair?

And, yes, I do care,

Because I'm curious

About what worries us,

Makes us,

Destroys us.

Because who is to say

That life will end today?

I suppose I made it happen,

But I'm still left with questions.

And when you do die,

You finally stop the cries;

Become numb, blind, and deaf.

So now I will speak of death.