Lifes' Game Poem by Jane Z

Every morning awakening, you turn
to see a reflection of an solem face.
The normal occurence of pressure
and responsibilities lay thick on thine
shoulder. There is no way out.
Rules for what this world claims to be,
freedom, ironicly clasps itself to every
living being, opportunity.
Yet late at night after struggling through
what seems like tons of barricade,
you face the dark sky
and question why the pain of surviving.
Are we merely puppets believing that
we ourselves, control our destiny.
Or was it planned so that it seemed like
we controlled when it was planned all along.
Lifes' game.