The Futility of Life

The Futility of Life

We are born into a world of woe,
Where sorrow is our only friend;
We toil and struggle, day by day,
But find no solace in the end.

We work at school, with books and rules,
To fill our minds with empty lore;
We learn to play the game of life,
But lose ourselves in its allure.

We work to scratch a living and survive,
To earn some bread and pay our due;
We chase the fleeting dreams of wealth and fame,
But find them hollow and untrue.

We get too old to enjoy life,
Our bodies frail, our spirits dim;
We look back on our wasted years,
And wonder what we did with them.

We die, having left no mark on the world,
Our names forgotten, our deeds unsung;
We leave behind a trail of dust,
And vanish into the dark we are flung.