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When at the brink of life, you reach,
where the only route left is as narrow as a chink,
as silent as a grave where the clink of a pin is heard,
what do you think about?
Remember why you started
When all left is vinegar as a drink,
when the tongue longs for honey and milk,
do you sink into sickness
or sit in the mess that stinks?
Remember how and why you started
Is not only an instruction,
but an option to choose correctly.
You either get pumped up and smile ever after,
or retreat and moan about how life is unfair
Stay true to your path and learn from people who will usher you in,
or complain about unfair life and face it squarely,
With defeated likemind
As misery loves company
You have a choice to make
but ensure you remember why you started
Before choosing to give in
This Post First Appeared Here.
Thank you for your time.
My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.
Still me,
My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.
Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.