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Stuffed

You know that stuff you do?

The stuff between birth and death?

The bit where you think it's all going to get better?

Or the bit where you tell yourself,

And anyone else who will listen,

That it's only going to get worse?

Yeah, all that stuff we do.

What happens with it?

I mean, where does it all go?

All that effort?

All that being clever?

All those risks you took?

All that couch potato-ing?

All that gossiping?

The helping and the

Getting in the way-ing?

Like, nothing ever really changes.

It's just the birth, the death and

Stuff in between.

◄ Not Drowning

Drawn by Dragons ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (18118)

Tue 8th May 2018 20:22

Is it going to get better or worse ?
Beautifully written.

Hannah

<Deleted User> (18980)

Mon 7th May 2018 08:30

You know what Hazel, my older brother is just ticking off the days. He doesn't do much despite various invitations to join in with things. On the other hand my younger brother and I together with a group of friends are filling up our days with tennis, bowls, snooker, pub walks, cycling. It's only stuff but it helps make life liveable. Like your poem.

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Trevor Alexander

Mon 7th May 2018 02:30

I guess there's an odd nugget amongst the moraine, but it's hard to find.

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