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My Book of Dark Poetry
This is what i write......
“What is the point of existence? We serve our time here on this mortal realm, and if we truly believe in the religion that we have been taught to live by, we live in the eternal realm of no sadness or sorrow. What is the point of existing than other than the chance of failure? Is hell simply just this realm than, that we are doomed to repeat until we find that true belief that allows us to leave the loop? Or is this realm the middle ground that forces us to decide which of those fates to dictate which path we than trod?”





 
 
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