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    dots Submission Name: The secret of deathdots

    Author: keestu
    ASL Info:    32/male/Sydney
    Elite Ratio:    5.61 - 153/95/116
    Words: 321
    Class/Type: Poetry/Death
    Total Views: 711
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1910

       Oldies. My horrible poem which i wrote after studying for all the crap that i just poured out in the exam paper. (after effects of an exam what else)

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe secret of deathdots

    The secret of death
    Hidden within our self
    Known unknown the truth about what
    Ages of ribosomes end with thy self.

    The universe so diverse makes things complex
    Filled with mystery is the human body itself
    Cease to exist will you be in years
    Living with purpose or not with or without help.

    Unlock the secret is all what I ask
    For any one to answer the question that I seek
    The answer unknown will remain so
    As far as the universe is deep.

    We know that all the living being that we see
    Includes all with no priority to see
    We may not concern with the life that we live
    But aint it worth for thinking to be.

    The key to my answer lies with one condition
    Unlock so will it death to fore come
    Seek the solution with all the ingredients
    Will it be worth going back and circum?

    We may never find out why we die
    The same way why we live
    But purpose of some kind
    Soul of its own mind
    Will show the world
    Existence to be fold.

    Mind is the key is all that we hear
    Making the soul of nothing to be
    Stupid as it is the thought of it
    Cause thoughts of dust impossible to be.

    Hear don't hear the words of books
    Holy that we say written by scholars
    Great were they of thought to enlighten
    Masses of people thoughts o horrors.

    Well they seek one true nature
    Convincing for all the life's factor
    In all that I see is the reason of faith
    Blind to believe is the brainwash cofactor.

    Straight to think is the feelings of one self
    Endless the journey on answer it seems
    Making of the body mystery till now
    Solution to all is death that it means.

    Submitted on 2008-03-03 03:04:32     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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