Click here to read original version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/06/05/poesiascommessa/


Sometimes life,

it’s a bet,

something you try to set,

you don’t now where it leads, yet,

is not something you’ve met.

Sometimes, life is dice to roll,

sometimes is a toll.

We know what’s the goal,

but, do we lose our soul?

Sometimes this bet,

it’s like hoping,

God exists,

and he put you into some good lists.

But I can’t see it,

even if I try to be it.

So, many times I pray,

but then I stop,

to see if my heart is made of clay,

and my prayers, are gone astray,

trying to find a place to stay.

It’s god the man to count on,

or everything’s gone?

I’m here, betting on my life,

as I can take it lightly,

as it’s a game, likely.

Still asking me if I’m doing the right thing,

the pain, is something I sing.

Life is a whip,

there’s still nothing I strip.

So I take this road,

If only I knew,

if it’s gonna explode.



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