queenadrock

Suzy's Journal
2003-06-17 14:08:32 (UTC)

Watchtower

My footsteps sacrinize a rythmn so melodic,
A path my heart beats congruent and symbolic.
A purpose we blindly send,
We must keep on tugging until the end.

Life is unfolding like a blossoming flower,
As I look down from the watchtower.
Seeing stories be told as we grow old.
Our formulas holding similar recipes,
Ingredients mixing good and bad times.
Often hiding like the closed pedals of a rose,
Abhored to a world to which we are confined.

And as I observe this heavenly abiss,
The world holds people so blindly amiss.
Askance and jealousy with every bliss,
Comes awry to the sick pleasures in life.
Pleasures so decieving, they aperture into desperate
measures.

So much power in man's grip, so much that,
Man won't let the simplest of things slip.
How do we have the right to end another life?
As if we want the scorn and strife.
It is a sorry sight to think that it is right,
We were never asked to be born. I see now from above
Life is a gift we choose what to make of.




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