deepundergroundpoetry.com

When we die

If there was such place as hell life would be fair
But it's not
And it never will be  
  
All dead people are just meat turned bone    
Time isn't any kinder to them than it is to us  
As we dread getting our first silver hair they dread turning from bone to dust  
Becoming nothing is a must  
It's so inevitable that not even God can help you with that no matter how much you pray  
So pick yourself up, dust off your knees, and feel the freedom's breeze
Swan37
Written by Swan37
Published | Edited 19th Apr 2022
Author's Note
i love spitting bullshit. though religion can be like a shackle sometimes
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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