If all we focus on are the highs of this cruel game we call Life,

Then, when do we focus on the pain and strife?

Is it in the night as one tries to rest,

All warm and cozy on a lover’s breast.

Or is it when one is alone in the dark,

Wondering how to shine light so as to embark.

Once one sets foot in this rugged world,

One would wish to be dazzled and laden with pearls,

But instead, is spun in circles, around and around till all life swirls.

Under the soft velvety blackness we call night,

Where no creature stirs, save for those with flight.

Once again, I ask, when do we focus on the pain and strife,

If we only focus on the high of this cruel game called Life.