Nothing I can conceive,
can make me believe,
that life is good,
like it could.
No material item,
given away by some, 
can satisfy a heart,
still torn apart.
Time will race,
to keep motion in place,
so that lifeless can,
live out life's plan.
Still every beat,
sends me to my feet,
with no hopes,
of getting up again.

SDPope