First, Last, and Only poem I've ever written.

Let me start out with the fact that I am not a fan of poetry on any level. I can appreciate it, but it does nothing for me. This fact makes the idea of me writing poetry even more ridiculous.

I wrote this poem after the death of my grandmother. She lived with us and we were very close. Honestly, no one has ever seen this. I haven't even told my wife or shared it with my closest friend, but with the "anonymity" of blogging, I am just going to throw it out there.

Out of the Box
By: Matt Villanueva

This is life
Much like a game
When all we have is loss and gain

And the dice we roll always take their toll
especially on the body and soul.

Then you take a chance and hope in advance
that you’re not getting your very last glance.
At life and the love that comes from above
to protect us in this oblivious trance.

Because bad gets worse and the worst get worse
Only then, do we realize were only moving in one direction

Different paths we may take
With the decisions we make.
While the paths only lead you to the next space.
Though the number of spaces is on a case by case basis
It is the same fate that always awaits us.

Now that it is all over with no ticks on the clocks
we see we are just pieces waiting to be put back in the box
This, is life.