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)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem