man holding book

Is The Meaning Of Life A Cliche

Taken to one extreme or the next…
It’s always either right
Or completely entirely left.
One may see it like a virgin,
Who’s naïve despite her depth
In that life is still so good,
One day can never compare to the next.
One may look on it with spite,
And think they’ve nothing left,
That the only new adventure
Is to explore their own death.
Could there be a medium?
A superfluous dream that beck’s
For us to see it as is:
An encouragement to take our next step…






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