Young Writers Society

A study of the truth and simplicity: an ode to questions that should perhaps remain unanswered

Here's to life
to laughter
to likes, loves
lamentations and late revelations.
To glory, gold, greed
to pride, pain, and perfection;
a tribute to the dying groans of stars
their bodies crushed by carious teeth
rotting and black from disuse.
To aching eyes
and aching arms
and aching souls
cracked and tired
slowly giving way,
to twists in the tale,
to battlefield casualties that all look the same
to missed opportunities spattered with fresh blood
from the very thing it sought to protect.
To broken bones and broken hearts
broken promises and broken dreams,
to hating and swearing and callous and tears and fears,
to wheels and arguments
and other things that go round and round and round,
to progress for progress' sake
and empires that rise fully intending to fall apart,
to those who say "so it goes"
or "and it was good"
or "ignorance is bliss".
To poets who clutch too often
and wind players who cannot stay in tune,
to red wheelbarrows and rainwater and white chickens,
to those who wait for a Godot who never shows,
and to kids punching far above their weight;

Damocles' Sword did not belong to Damocles,
but if this is living, then long live living.