People talk about death
As if it is the end
Sometimes I see it as a beginning
They tell me that a person expires
When there role is played
And they have done there part
Sometimes I think this body of ours
Is made of wood
The older it grows the more it has to offer
Many people die before their time
People talk of death among other things
These are the very people who should be allowed to grow
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC
People talk about death
As if it is the end
Sometimes I see it as a beginning
They tell me that a person expires
When there role is played
And they have done there part
Sometimes I think this body of ours
Is made of wood
The older it grows the more it has to offer
Many people die before their time
People talk of death among other things
These are the very people who should be allowed to grow
No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true
Request permission to use this poem