Poetry / We Choose To Make Ghosts.

We choose the path that gets us lost
We choose the time in which we tossed
Our life, our love, our memories
We are our own fought enemies

We bear the burden of the sun
To which our bargains are undone
Although we speak up for our friends
We’re soon to follow all their trends

And yet as though the deed is dead
And live stock went to sleep unfed
We trade our hearts out for a breath
We choose to fight until the death

When the end is finally near
And left is what we choose to fear
Forsaken are those we love the most
Of those we love will soon be ghosts

Reviews

November 17, 2007

Soph

REVIEW QUALITY: 0.0%(1 vote ) personal info reviewer stats

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
321	37.5% (24 votes)	39.5%

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
54	F	South Africa	June 07

Soph reviewed Version 1 - Read 100%% of the Item

This poem has reiterated my feelings about the futility of war, of sending our youth to early demise.

“Forsaken are those we love the most
For those we love will soon be ghosts”

You certainly have talent worth shaping

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