During the day, I like to lay
Upon my bed, almost dead
With exhaustion.

Using this time, and a few dimes
I ponder about life and the knife
That severs it so easily.

What is life, and the knife
We call death, that takes away one's breath
So cruelly?

To me, life is what I see
What I hear, and what I fear
Outside of my window.

It's the constant ticking of multiple clocks bickering
Over who's time is true
And who's is not.

The rustling of leaves as they grieve,
For Winter can be a horrible splinter
Breaking them apart.

Life is getting mocked at for being too fat,
and congratulated for going on you first date
Or passing a test.

Life is full of bullies who act so cruelly,
Trying to steal your dimes time after time,
And the friends that help you get them back.

But with every happy part comes a sad counterpart,
Like life and that knife
We call death.

Death can come in different forms to some,
In the mind, forever confined,
Or in the physical form.

Death- it leaves us with such a fuss!
-Mourners, tears, widows, and fear
Forever imprinted on our hearts.

Yet when some join you, they go willingly too.
Is it because they have no choice, or to the leave the voice
Begging for food and money?

The people left behind cry and cry
The dimes they earned can't feed both hunger and mind
For all of them.

Dimes mean alot, being fought
Over by people. They're sharp as a steeple
And is dangerous.

Dimes are life and knife.
One is amazed to find, that it binds
People to life and love to hate.

Nowadays, dimes are everything, they say
Some sing for dimes, others work for dimes
And others resort to stealing and killing.

Imagine a day, when dimes don't have a say.
Would it be thought to be better or not?
This I ponder upon my bed.