No Bed Of Roses.

In life i see its beauty and ugliness.
I also smell its rottenness and freshness.
It doesn’t all smell of fresh spring roses.
Evilness and hate does penetrate our noses.
It is a place i do not understand.
For sure it’s not a utopian land.
But they say all of us a god created.
And on us all god our death has dated.
For some life can be a torturous place.
That’s life, welcome to the human race.