Life or Death
it is but a simple thing.
This thing we call life.
We hold it so dear yet means nothing to me.
What is this thing we call life.
It is nothing but the hope of finding what we need.
We watch as the leaves change and fall we simply sit here and wait.
Wait for it to all end.
If life means so much to all of us why do we just sit back and wait.
Why wait for death to takes its tole.
It is but a silly thing to think about.
This thing called death you know.
Is there anything to really really fear.
A real scare.
But is there really.
I have often found myself wondering just that.
Why is it so scary.
I have lived my life.
Ah that is it the word life.
Everyone wants to live it.
But now I start to wonder about it.
Kelsea Osterman's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.