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.

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