Life ails

The plane rumbles and I wonder if it will crash

Like the one that recently did and killed all aboard

One moment we are here, another we are trash

Or in pieces or at peace,

would you rather go with disease

Wouldn’t this be preferred

In the belly of a bird?

Would this ease my pain,

will the problems remain

Or will death put them to rest

I get so distressed

When I think of the pain

What has passed, what remains

Contented

With little joys invented

Out of little things

Resented

Big plans

Dissented

We are toys

Just waiting to be broken

By a restless God

Who will not spare the rod

Life ails

And so it will