• Is life to us overwhelming?
    It leaves us stranded and left crawling-
    to weak to continue on.
    The peak of the dry surface of a dead land;
    We become lifeless animals,
    waiting to rot with the Sun.
    But the Sun never comes.
    We are now a barren landscape,
    only dreams could further describe us.
    Whose nimble hands etched
    We the people?
    Careless, we lie on dirty canvas.
    Paints all around,
    The colors make our sky,
    I still stand- my heart still abound
    As we kiss our dreams Good-Bye.