So many wars people fight daily-
In which victory is not the promise.
Our lives built for trial;
People are born victims
Others inherit wars of past-
And the Art of Winning simply a story
That cannot be written.
The deck is stacked from the beginning
Or we are simply a “version” of ourselves.
So many possibilities to believe-
Suits are made of money and arrogance-
Even if people inside never fix a thing…
But in their “version” they do-
Some people believe them. Sad.
A side is simply that-
It is never the completed picture.
We believe in the painting
Or the meaning one person sees.
Life is not a guarantee-
The future even less sure.
The cycle of insanity continues in waste…
As the fool’s philosophy triumphs again.
Very well worded poem
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