Bad things
happen to good people
is it a sign
(a tumor, malignant
or benign)
to pull a knife
and cut your life strings
short of time
whose fault?
Mine?
I pay taxes I go to church
I'm pretty F****** decent
for what its worth
yet I'm cosmically and constantly
tread on
thrown away
like an unwanted still-birth
gift and a curse
to walk this thin line
through space and time
where god has a magnifying glass
and were all just ants
marching in line
God has a plan for each and everyone of us, and when it's are time he will call us back to heaven to be with him, sometimes we just need to wait and see what God's plan for us is and sometimes we won't know until were with him and can ask him. but until then just believe that he knows what is best for you and he loves you and your life is always in his hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what the heck this isnt a poem this is a story thing like i looked up poems not storys