More souls on the fringes of life
Some being born, some ready to die,
And I sit here looking up at the sky
What is it all about, this kind of life,
Where for some they’re born with a silver spoon
Implanted very firmly in their mouths,
But for others they are born into hardship
It’s going to be one long hard struggle down it the pit
Where we, the poor etch out a living,
Yet somehow we stay happy despite our misgivings,
We’ll work until we drop and live off the slops
Meanwhile the better off will drink champagne
And will party and shop until they drop,
I guess this is life and this is our lot
It’s not like we won’t try to break out and break free
I for one am never accepting of anything,
I am no spring chicken but I am not ready for the chop
And I am still connecting the dot to dots,
That will find a path and avenue to lead all out of the mire
So we can clamber out and start to admire,
The finer things in life and finally get the chance to taste them
But we’re oppressed and kept down by those who think we’re waste men,
And the systems rigged against, sponsored by the government
And the media re-enforces it, so what can we really do,
Well I for one say keep fighting and kicking up a stink
And never forget it’s important to think,
Or yourself and not to just follow, the rules that they make
They can’t even abide by them, for these laws they also break,
So when I see these poor souls on the fringes of life
Some of them are ready to be born, some are ready to die,
I wonder what’s the point of it and I question why,
Are we still here, living here in the hardship
Well it’s because the system doesn’t care ane bit,
For those who are about to be born or to die
And end up struggling just like us, barely able to exist.
How do you come up with so many poems every day?
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Not sure 🤣🤣🤣 thanks for reading them though my friend 🙏 Faux
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