Real Life

A despot's never gone, at least just not for long,

An object of ridicule, though we play the pawn.


Is it really God that you beseech? My father is my priest,

Stuck in forlonging, half past dead.


A coffin's the best of beds, at battle with my head,

What time will you arrive?

Will I stay alive?


Keep the line going, just to compensate,

Not all generations do define, money is a trait.


Oh, life is short. 

Immortalized bullshit but were gone.

Oh, the yearly records.

When the time comes, I'll see you beneath the lawn.



View riadrababeh's Full Portfolio