Poem #3

Life is peculiar to say the least.

Bustling and Rapid,

Quiet and Vapid.

Love doesn’t ferment too well with yeast.

Bubbling and Building,

Fading and Gilding.

Sadness is its own little journey.

Crying and Swelling,

Dying and Yelling.

You could just end up in a gurney.

Hoping and Praying,

Leaving or Staying.

Not everyone knows what’s in their range.

Dreaming and Scoring,

Falling or Soaring.

No one can tell you how life will be.

It’s really different for you and me.

There’s no changing the past or forgetting the present.

Life is Strange.


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