Reflection of a soul.
Dead within,
You called it faith.
Destined to be made,
I call it life;
Made to show us how merciful death is.
Shows us how twisted everything can be.
When your foe seemed better,
That those who held you the most.
That the nature of beings they said,
Fall to get back up again.
But if you knew the truth,
Would you taste the poison just to try?
YOU ARE READING
ubuntu
PoetryNoun (n) - A quality that includes the essential human virtues; compassion and humanity.
