there is no easy way out.
on the bus or a park bench,
how can we tell if the person next to us is breathing when everyones pulse is dead?
how do we know for sure if we are living when there is no one around but ourselves?
I talk and no one listens, I walk and my destination is always fleeting,
how do we know if we are the living if we wake and are still dreaming?
how do we know if no one cares?
*on camera, in the news I saw an old woman throw herself infront of a moving train*
this old woman could have been saved.
Godbless her soul.
pray for her and for all the people we lost in the war we know as life.
poem by J.Q posted on efh2t.com 2/19/10
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