Literary Yard

Search for meaning

By: Alan Berger

We get born, then we die
In the middle
We love, try, laugh, and cry

I Need a break to de-charge my batteries Need a push to forgive my enemies
Need to lay under a tree
With a breeze to swirl my memory

Can’t and don’t want to remember my past lives
Don’t want to know if I went to Hell or was covered in ice
And isn’t it very nice
To receive a payoff after a sacrifice


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