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Like discarded shells of nuts, our time

Misspent counting pennies & pounds

Instead of the arts and lyrical rhyme

And laughter and love, and other such sounds

Such cruelty, a game of dice

Does God play with lives each day

As we run from maze to maze like mice

Shedding bits of our life along the way

Can our picture of God be broken?

Our ideals, ground to dust and sand

And our love be shallow, a token 

Of ourselves, that we don’t understand?

Is selfishness a feeling now,

Or a god given inborn trait

Can a human being rise above,

And just be giving, forgiving, straight

Why is it so easy to hate?

Why must there be tears?

Why is it so easy to tempt fate,

Why is it so easy to give in to our fears