There is a time in life, when everything must cease.
When life and it’s breaths disappear with rapid ease.
The things that were, like our dreams become deceased.
Each breathe we took, its usefulness we overlooked.
In truth we told each countless lie –
In thoughtlessness causing broken hearts to cry.
Told we were to live each day like it were our last
Instead we lived each day like blast
In spite, on friends we turned,
On immorality our bodies yearned.
The day, the hour, the age unknown
THe end, its woes and visions foretold
What becomes of man on that day?
What becomes of you on that day?
From dust we came, to dust we shall return;
The Expiration Date.
This poem was written/submitted by Tracy.