deepundergroundpoetry.com

Life



This one is from 2007




The depth of any weary soul
is often, never really told.
The real man will sacrifice
with little praise throughout his life.

The peace sought more from sleep, remains,
the smallest increment of change.
The busy man wont want to rest.
The lazy man wont want to sweat.

The intrigue of attention, blooms
like fireworks inside the mind.
Man cannot resist the smile
from short-skirt shells, as they walk by.

The trouble with life lived in haste
is that the man can't slow it down.
While he is busy making waves
he forgets the world around.

"Hope" that use to be the keeper
hides somewhere next to the heart.
Unannounced and quite un-chosen,
time stands still - hands spread apart.

The depth of any weary soul
is often, never really told.
The real man will become lost
if he has nowhere left to go.
Written by trouble8me
Published
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