Facts Of Life Poem by John Florio

My dear friends, we are a man, not a stone,
We can, therefore, live never alone;
By the way, we all were created by the Lord,
And being sent in the illusive world.

As we were born, we have to die someday,
Then our beauties will lead to ashtray;
The deed we do whether it's right or wrong,
Will be left here like a memorial song.

Upon the road of life, so twisted and rough,
Experiences we get, are never enough;
We meet with new things at every moment,
That are so unfamiliar, and so fervent.

How sad it's with a life-so short and brief,
That we spent it with pain and grief;
Overwhelmed with works, we're out of peace,
Despite we try, we are never at ease.