PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

So we do what we do,

To limit the pain,

So we can go on living,

A pain producing life,

In fear of the end,

Which offers no certainty,

But painlessness.

So we do what we do,

To cope with the burdens,

We pile onto ourselves,

That we may forget about the burden,

We cannot justify carrying.

We put a cloth on the man,

Who allows us to keep our taboos,

That vulgarity may be subdued.

That vulgarity may be subdued,

We take the same man,

And make him defend,

All that is vulgar.

We take his cloth,

To cover what we have to,

And worship the rest.

They look at the parodied blood,

Trapped in its flight from the holes,

Convincing themselves,

If he had to die,

He should at least save them.

If we have to have a book,

Contrary to reality,

Just to survive,

Certainly we can lead a life,

Contrary to reality.