Well, so far this poem has no title, I just came up with it one day when I was kind of depressed...
(Edit: sorry, I hadn't seen I was supposed to post 2 reviews first, I'll get on that)
We sob, we cry, our tears form a sea,
For what our lives are, and what they won't be
Wishing, praying, fantasies and dreams
Replaced by anguish, and great, silent screams
Prisoners in a dark labyrinth of sorrow
Mindless drones always waiting for tommorrow
And here's something I wrote when I was feeling more philosophical...
Why are we brought, if only to cry
Why are we born, if only to die
Why are there children, if they do not last
Like a wilting rose, we fade to the past
O intellect! O reasoning! O "praiseworthy" things!
We are but puppets on nature's great strings
On nature's scale, our race is the least
Unable to acknowledge that we are but beasts
