Life That Seems Like Prison

June 2, 2013

I say life is like a sentence. We all seem to have them, but it's just a shame that we all don't get the chance to serve them to the finish. You can be ill, but strong of passion that allows you to walk with your dreams; but don't be mistaken about the faction that divides us. Legs of steel, but a mind that is dying faster than you can age. A body that is disabling, but hands built to make art. A heart that is broken, but a voice that was made to be spoken; but if you just listen closely you can hear the voice crying out towards your help. Now I just have a thought that was pressured by the coldness in my heart. The question that I ask, is it time to let go of sight, touch, smell, taste, and noise? Because in the end, life is a sentence and my last thought was my witness.

Something wrong with this poem?

Replies are closed for this poem.

Mafi Grey

I went through a lot of hard life situations, but it never stopped me from trying to make something of myself. Currently, I'm following my dream to become a chef and on the side is the passion I hold deep for poetry. I hope you enjoy my art and my poems. Oh, just one more thing, please comment as much as you can. It motivates me to write, when I have an audience behind me. Also, It really shows when a person responds to my quotes or poems can make you feel that special feeling saying you really can do what you can do. I mean it's like a painter who puts his new work in the gallery for display for all to see, and then turns around to see 10 to 20 people standing around trying to figure out his inspiration, his thoughts, and what lead him there? I love when a person understands me and when their trying to dissect my thoughts. Also, when my work of art can help others cope with their monsters and to help a person become inspired. Thanks a lot. I grew up without a father, but that never stop me from becoming a man; yet I thought life would be easy but it wasn't. The pain that I grew up with was hard, but the thought that grew with inside me was even harder. Could I be a good father, could I contain the pain; could I even forget or could I be something better than what he tried to be. Before I knew it, I woke up a man with pain in his knees, with hair on his face; even with sweat, tears, and blood on his sleeves. The lost of hair, the responsibility of having faith in you and where I worked my hands far pass there capabilities. I believe that I'm a pretty fine man and that one day that I will love my children as mush as my father and mother did... Me and my friend has a group, he does music, rap, making beats, and videos. I help out there and here for the music, raps, and videos. I used to rap myself and we go way back. I join the team and he wants me to lead the poetry side and I agreed. If anyone wants to join, then email me at [email protected] and I'll see what you got. Check out my page: https://www.facebook.com/MafiThePoet

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (1)

Mafi GreyJun 2, 2013

Please comment as much as you can. It motivates me to write, when i have an audience behind me. Thanks