High upon the brows of defeat
Walking in pride of the day done.
Up on the top of the mountain,
awaited what can only be life
Much to my chagrin stood death,
Waiting with its claws ready to be sunk.
Tricky as my actions were,
Much time was taken before it could take me.
Do you really get yourself preyed,
Or do you pray not to be.
Knowing the end is the same
as the way it all began.
Who would ever really
Say, "Hey I'am ready."
Well written poetry. Nice
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Hey diva,
This is very philosophical, and I loved the way in which you chalked out the poem to ask one final question : How can anyone, ever get ready?!
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Thank you :) I am glad that you liked it!
I have more fiction/poems up on the blog that you might like.
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