In a cold and lonely world. We face death everyday. From the womb to the grave we are destined to face hard times. There's only two roads. One we can choose. Which shall it be? From the womb to the grave we could be servants yet we choose to be slaves. Like a cobra's deadly bite. Or the forbidden apple's seed. We take the bait. What a crooked web we weave. As children search for a father's hand. Yes some do receive. And some only denied and placed in this world all alone in the night. We all know that from death we were born. And to death we shall return. Can we not show compassion? Can we just open our eyes? There is still time to change. Before we die. Let's make things right. There is a God. There's more to this.

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