My Thoughts On Pen Poem by Lilibeth Apat

Wherever you go, people don’t always talk and think like you
Through the years I’ve tried to see the good in every man
But ended up cynical about life, love and misery.

Life is what we make it
If we don’t do a thing, what are we then?
We live, we love, we get hurt, we die.

Just as all cycles do, we wake up the next day
To live and love again, to get hurt and die bitter
Happiness and hurt, both are things of the past by then.