Imperfection

“Mistakes make us human”

but my mistakes make me dead.

I found myself pondering if it would come again.

My life will soon be over,

after 50 years, 

of pain torture and labor.

All to get myself ahead

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741