Driven By Fear

I do not rate it much – this life

It is but simply a series of gauges and dials

With all the joy and happiness it gives

There’s the pain and disappointment that accompanies

It is impossible to have one without the other

And after a short time of stress and strain.

We are committeed to the earth. Cold. Dark.

I do not rate it much – this talent

Yes I possess it, and oh so bountifully

People applaud and scream when I am on stage

They serenade me with sweet words off it

But all of it is a ruse.

For I know how easy it would be to lose it all

And go back to nothingness. Obscure. Obsolete.

I do not rate them much – these people.

They love and support you only when its beneficial

It’s nothing personal really – just interests

In your presence, they make you judge of others

In your absence, you become the accused

The ones you love will hurt you the most.

People Always Leave.

I do not rate it much – this money

Neither happiness nor fulfilment can it buy

Why everyone else craves it so much I wonder

For no matter the volume of it I have

I still feel empty.

Indeed, it is nothing but superficial

I rate it so much – this death

I go through everyday with it in mind

Knowing that I know not the hour it shall come

It drives me to treasure every passing moment

To enjoy this life, this talent, these people, this money

For I know someday I shall have none of it

And becomes nothing but a memory

One memory amidst 7 billion others