A Mornings Word Poem by wordsy wright

In a world that's not so giving
there is no forgiving
all the things that we have done

A sadness of misgiving
to still go on living
as we bow down to the gun

And our tirade seems so daunting
a soulful kind of haunting
that leaves us all perturbed

A sinful fling we're flaunting
morally tainted taunting
that has me quite distrubed

A choice is what we were given
the only grace we've ever known
To die or to go on living
their lessons learned, the dying moan


(11/16/07)