Life Sucks On The Dirt Farm.To Now Where. Poem by Michael Gale

My love of life, was just recently conspired...
As if by fate, this life was soon expired.

How was I to know...
That in this life of smoking cigarettes, makes you go?

Anything in life, can make you cease....
Even many cancers, may make you lose your lively lease.

Life is not, without a hitch...
At least, not until, you've been laid to rest
deep inside a ditch.

For on the morrow, that you feed....
The hungry bugs and even the worms in the weed.

Flowers and plants will swell as grow...
But in the end, we are nothing, but of the seeds, that we've sewn, as known.

Life is the flame that must be put out....
That is the certainty of man and God, that
we may never to question, as doubt.