Life is a puzzle,

People its pieces,

And here we struggle to find our place,

Each fit unique to our taste

Though, the world is built of these sections

It’s simple form distorted by our selection

It’s those who fit themselves in their chosen place

That are separated by both gender, and race

Then again, many wish for the world to fit around them

The dream of their perfect puzzle, merely to astound them

Yet this is the world’s earthy function

A place of desired, cruel human consumption

But, as the end grows near, a new puzzle is forming

One that shall ease our mourning

The puzzle is white, and endless of pieces

Not plagued by hate, by rage or diseases

Yet to reach our homes,

 Pain awaits us, its path in nails, and bones

And as we stare it in the eyes

Many mock us our beliefs; their lies

We struggle, and we survive

God’s promise, as our drive

And one day as that path ends,

 He will brake us From our sins