If Life is easy,
why do we strive?
And search for hope,
to keep us alive.
And feel the pressure,
which causes pain.
And leaves a mark,
or an ugly stain
It makes me wonder,
if I am astray?
Or a marionette,
in a child's play.
Or am I an actor?
in a grand display.
Or have a message,
I must relay.
So many times,
I am lost for words.
Which help express,
my hidden hurts.
They bring relief,
and inner healing.
When life is dull,
and not appealing.
Sometimes I wish,
a peaceful death.
At dawn I leave,
with the morning breath.
But I am not the one,
Who's in control.
When time will come,
He’ll make the call.
-
Author:
Saleh Ben Saleh (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 25th, 2024 10:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Qurrathul Ain
Offline)
Comments2
I felt a heavy weight reading your lines dear Saleh. Life has a habit of throwing pot holes as we journey through. I have always found therapy in penning poetry. Your stanzas are conveyed with much emotion and touched me.
I have been away from writing the past week or so due to tremendous pressure. Yes, life has its ups and downs, but sometimes it brings more than we can handle. Things are better now and I am a few steps away from back to normal. Thank you my friend.
Wishing you well Saleh.
There was not only a heavieness but a sense of resignation to this poem.
Yes my friend, sometimes when things reach the extreme we may think of resignation. After all we're only human. Thank you Soren.
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