Poem: Bag

The bag of life keeps punching, and it does not miss.

Trying to find the pot of gold, but it never where it seems.

Hearing the words that used to mean strength now brings you to your knees.

You cannot stand for every step you must fall.

Getting back was easy, now you do not know where to begin.

This life is not worth the time, but you keep buying extra tickets.

One day you will not be able to afford to go round.

Then maybe then the bag will miss.