All Too True Poem by Raz Nicholson

I do ponder
about ourselves
the way we work, think and act.
We do at best
seem to survive, the long haul
for some, is short
but always sweet
for no time is ever wasted,
and joy, has every being brought
into our gloom.

We notoriously search
like a gull with no home.
Self destruction is too common
in our homes and our lives
for we down our own efforts,
to convince ourselves of our
own decisions.
We're never happy
with what we have,
except when its most needed.

Time rolls on.
Never stopping,
it has no master
but infinite slaves
all rushing away their life.
Those few who pause
and guide themselves to peace,
are truly,
never noticed.