Birth, The Hours Of Life Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Endless are hours of life, tucked between years
of sacrifice, branched out into all facets of
the universe, spent on exaggerating truths.

Euphemisms standing out in front of every fact,
believing themselves to be intact.

Only the forging of every wakeful second brings
about any truth and birth continues every day
receiving it's own destiny.

Fallen, as from skies of heaven, brought together
here on earth.