Lucky Ones?

Not sure where this came from; somewhere where my mind seemed to burn, and everything seemed...Good. Perhaps I was just waiting for the dissapointment, even then

And who are we to say it.
They're damned and broken,
torn apart by lust supernal,
rent and bloodied by desire.

Who are we to call them fools,
of love and death and fantasy?
To say that they are doomed?
Or are they the lucky ones?

Passion burns with serpents,
kiss, caress, are we alive?
If not to feel why do we live?
Why do we fight? Tell me.
What is our struggle,
where is our war?

With ourselves, without.
We tumble, desperate,
frustrated with a world,
so cold and faithless,
spurning us to face,
so many bitter ends.

Author's Note

Feedback welcomed :)

Reviews

[Denni]

I like this. it really makes me think. keep it up