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Click hereThe Bed sent to make us all
And bread sent to grow us tall
Bullets sent to keep the wall
And the bible sent to test our soul
Each with potency
Enough to dread
All undoubtedly
Will leave us dead
Famine, war
God and lust
It’s still my end
In that I trust
Our lives mapped out
By those above
Our only thoughts
For those we love
But it still comes down
To the four above
No matter which takes us
We still make dust
And after that
Will the bible help?
Heaven sent
Or the fall to hell?
No need for bread
To sustain the flesh
Bed and bullet, why?
We can only guess
As my dust drifts slowly in the wind
Where’s my soul, did I sin?
...and striving after wind." I feel like the lightness of everything feels so cheap. Thanks for sharing this.
Certainly leaves food for thought, I know I'll read this one again and again. Thanks.