In the End

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  • Life

    In the End

    The people we meet

    The actions we take

    Once we are gone

    there will be no recollection of us

    Each person serves a purpose

    no one will remember us for who we are

    People are on this planet for one simple reason

    to invade nature

    In the years we live

    we will not be remembered for the good we do

    but for the evil we have taught

    In the end nothing matters

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    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    flipflopfreak’s Poems (13)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Forever Free 0
    Remembering Me 0
    My End 0
    My Cover 0
    In the End 0
    Fine 1
    Him 0
    Broken 0
    Care Taker 0
    Only Friend 1
    Pain or Pleasure 0
    At Last 0
    Save Me 0

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