Man’s Plight


Inevitable as winter,
she's covered in white.
This mother is left to whither.

Whither.

For the smile of sin
lures light-bulbs to dim,
as the quest of mind begins.

Then fade invades,
before: nothing
now: the same.

Beyond thought, you realize
how foolish it was
to play such a silly game.

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This Poems Story

This is the omnipresent story of humanity.