The struggle i started ends here and now
I thought life was easy, cud get thru somehow
I thought they would understand how i feel
But they have forced me into a fake image, discarding everything thats real
Now m just the way they wanted, a replica of the millions of others
I am an image made of mud, hav got no real feathers
but in the end, as i've left the battlefield
These fake wounds neednt be healed
I'd surely ask god when i reach the pearly gates
If every moment i spend faking,
what makes life so great? ? ?
POOJA LADYLUCK
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-makes-life-so-great/
