326 of 693

by Charles Ivey

LIFE... DEATH

Pleasure and pain it's all the same.
Obscurity and fame either you can claim
Greed and blame a beast not easily tamed.
Ashes that are born to life only through the flames
Hands with palms upturned beneath blood red rains
Flesh entwined with life out flows crimson stains.
Pleasure and pain it is but a game.
The winnings are up to you to claim.
There is no other there is no blame.
It's up to you to use your brain.
For if you don't you'll go insane.
Life is like tracks and you're the train.
But the tracks may turn and they may change.
There is not limit to your life's range.
So find your place in this great plain.
But if you don't know matter you can come back again.

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Poetry: Death

by Charles Ivey

Poetry: Death

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