To chances and back,

To little or more,

It has become that of what we all know.


Coming little to the truth and seeing nothing but large lies.


But what else is there in life,

As we only have one . . .


One that could make or break one soul,

Belittling all of nothing,

But be that of something,

Could only rely,

On one person.


A task will come,

To where it is begging you to fall for it,

Or take it down.


There is only one life,

Your life,

Another will come and fill in that space,

Once you stop breathing,

But until that is to come,

That is your spot.


Yours alone,

Doing this things that make people remember you,

Or be forgotten,

Simple as just someone,


Telling you drop off the face of the world,

Or be something.


But who is that person to make that last choice,

Before the last breath leaves the lungs,

If I have to say it,

Than you,

My friend,

Have missed the point of this.


You only live once,

Make something of it.




Long from now,

Go do it.


That’s all one could ask for,

Even knowing little to nothing about who you are,

You’ll be gone soon,

Leaving the dominos to fall into place,

As always.


Leaving one last question,

Before you go on living your life,

Did you start,


Or soon becoming the last one to fall?


That should say something about you,

Even just a little.

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