All people are enslaved by something.
Infinity is the end. End without infinity is but a new beginning.
Long ago an uncalled rain fell and a called-upon God stayed equally distant.
Why poetry, you ask? Because of life, I answer.
Trying too hard to be too good, even when trying to be bad, is too good for the bad, too bad for the good.
Tell me something only you know and make a new friend.