Life is for living.
What does that mean?
Does it mean we should chase
Every fanciful dream.
Lots of money, big house,
Parties with friends,
Be someone big in the eyes of the world.
Is that living, to be among all that is dead.
When there's no love, with all its colour and change,
Intolerance for others is not so strange.
In time we will meet that web of deceit
And realise the deceiver and the deceived is me.
Topic of this poem: life
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Comments about this poem (Life by Maryanne Richards )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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