Bereavement Poem by Annajoy Thompson

Beauty is unreachable
Love is just a game
Lies become believable
Others thrive off of our pain

We're taught to feel inferior
Always lower than the rest
But to mask with our exterior
To use our image to suppress

Success is an illusion
As fleeting as the wind
Craving power's on human
But contentedness we rescind

Unknowingly we chase
The pernicious prizes of our pride
Forgetting to embrace
The time we were supplied

Examine your achievements
The entities you held so high
And upon your next bereavement
What have you when you die?