You talk about life, is it that sweet?

Are there hidden treasures that I am yet to discover?

Places I am yet to see?

To find a freedom, some sort of something that’s worth living for.

Or is this life you speak of for the few?

While the many suffer and long to be like you,

Because your riches and gold don’t fall from palm trees; they are stolen from poor hands and raped from innocent lands.

Or is this life a figure of your imagination?

A place beyond scope, kept safely between your dreams and hopes

Where longing becomes desperation, and desperation becomes depression

For that life cannot exist without you,

But you do not exist enough for that life to be real.

So step outside your head and bury yourself within the reality of the earth,

A place where death is embedded with us and life is but a game of head and tails,

Where we play despite knowing we’ll never win

So leave all the talk about life, especially when it’s not that sweet.