If today is wonderful and soul inspiring
And the next thing is tears and pain
As if it was flower in season and out
Even at that, some never find peace
All through life is pain and misery
Hence I wonder, is there any intrinsic value?
Few are born with silver spoon
Many with guile spoons
And others nobody seems to know what
The end and the beginning make little
At sometimes no sense at all
What then is the essence of living?
Why then must we live poor and die miserable?
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