We work our lives away,
so we can retire some day,
and watch the bluejay
float and flutter another way.
We regret our lives spent
wasted on work days and repent.
Life, it came and went
without our permission, heaven sent.
The notion of heaven is hard.
No guarantee, not even a shard.
Filled with sugar and lard,
our lives full of guards.
Wasted.
A smarter person
would learn to live early on;
their end days being spent
reliving the good times.
-Dustin S. Stover
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