They say that your body was created perfect
Can you believe it
A body subject to corruption, decay and death, king or pauper immaterial
Pain and suffering
A body you have to slog your whole life for
Just to feed and keep it alive
A body that can be felled
By a mere disease or an accident
Subject to the capricious dictates of chance and fate
Here today
And dead tomorrow
But pompous in between
A body that grows weak as you grow older
And ages as you go along in years
A pale and feeble shadow of your youth
Instead of getting younger and stronger
Can you believe you were created perfect
Three score and ten years, or more if you would
But all the same
Something is just not right
And someone must be laughing
Posted from I Say Blog
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