Every one, seems to be in a hurry today,
They desire everything, now, or yesterday,
Knowing none of us will win, at the end,
Ashes, covered with dirt, A rule you can not bend.
No human is fast enough, to win, at life,
I've never seen any one come back,
Always trying to make life faster, is common sense, what we lack?
Tom Maxwell © 03/14/2021AD 4: 05 AM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem