In the end, life is like a sonnet
Full of rythme and rhyme
Juxtapositions of silent sounds and screaming dumb men
Speaking mute words to deaf ears as blind men paint pictures of a future they see
While illiterate scholars read prophecies of greatness and success to the poor as the rich laugh on in their depression
Because, although money cannot buy happiness, it can buy the things that bring it.
Life is like poetry, structured or free flowing, expressive or spiritual, it too comes to an end and is afterwards summarised for readers who can relate
Or for critics to pick out your mistakes.
