We all have a ticket in the infernal lottery
Where we play the odds for our health
At the time of birth we earn our ticket
Without knowing the cost of each one
Some are stamped for a short time
Where their life ends just as it starts
Others are made to to earn each day
In hard toil that never goes away
And some throw their ticket to the wind
Wasting their life for what they can't say
As the years go by and we come to terms
With what we have and for what we yearn
And in the end when you think about it
Has your ticket been worth the ride
Or have you wanted more as you craved
So it's more lament for what you have given.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem