Poem: This Is The Real Thing.
This Is The Real Thing.
.
This world we know
Is not a playground,
It is a testing ground,
A school of thought
For who we think we are.
It is like a sweet shop
With the door unlocked,
An electric line-up
Of hanging chickens.
We have a full free will
To take until we tire,
It is a place of infinite choice
But we will be presented,
Upon our last departure,
With a final accounting
For which we will fully pay.
.
.
