Life. Poem, by Little No Name, at My poetic side

Life is something ruined ages ago,

Ruined as soon as made,

The story of a life to live forever,

Was a story ruined by man.

There is no way to make life better,

Only ways to make it worse,

Death is an option,

Only a wise man would take.

The only light is the sun,

Which casts upon our own mistakes,

Life was killed years before,

Murdered by itself, a suicide of light.

The only way is down,

Now money makes the world go round,

Happiness replaced by money,

Money, the tree’s dead souls.

The bible filled with a hope,

A hope which lived before,

A hope we wished was still alive,

We ruined it all, our sins reap our souls.

There is no way to make life happy,

Only ways to make it worse,

Death is an option,

Only a wise man takes.

Life.