RedRavenPoems

Down the winding path we go, where we stop none shall know. Do we even want to play this game? And have our chance at glory or fame?

We must be careful, and rather quick. Or on us life shall play a joyous trick. Burn us up like candle qucks. Tossed around like rags or sticks.

So think things through, keep wisdom in mind. Or misery shall be the things you find. Something that makes you howl or whine. A full feast of woe on which you shall dine.