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