Temporary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a poem.

Submitted: August 03, 2017

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Submitted: August 03, 2017

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Be wary, Life is scary.

Life is very, 

temporary.

Life is unnecessary, involuntary,

Dare I say it, imaginary.

Life is a fucking library with bookshelf towers too tall to fall

and I've got two hours to read them all.

Whats the point of reading just the first page of a book?

Especially when the first page is the fucking hook:

"Guess what! You're alive, go find out why."

Life's not a race, a journey, or a line.

Life is a geometric point, a location in time.

You know my great-great-grandfathers name? Neither do I.

But he had a life. He was born then he died.

He had favorite things; he had secrets.

Now he has nothing. Both asleep and sleepless.

Forgotten,

Turning In eternity's stomach, burning

This is what I find concerning.

This unnecessary, temporary ride.

This beautiful conceited bride.


© Copyright 2017 Josh Wayne. All rights reserved.

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