Life is but a lump of meat

I wrote this poem about 7 years ago, at the age of wondering what the meaning of life was...The time passed by and I have realized that life has many beautiful moments even though some of them were not as expected. Many years later I started to learn to live, to travel, to think, to feel and to write....

Life is but a lump of meat,
That day by day makes it rotten.
A lump of heart is made of meat,
Dancing all the time until you’re dead
And what is the beauty of them all,
If see nothing but meat that’s raw?
With blood, with smell of disgusting,
And see pieces of meat that are falling.
And when life’s grilled with lustful fire,
No voice, no scream, or any cry.
So it is like a beef steak,
That’s finally buried in stomach grave.
No more meaning, no more value,
Life is but thing that has no rule.
So life is just a lump of meat,
That dances all the time until you’re dead.
Once, was delicious and fresh,
Last, so dried, dreary….
As if it has never been fresh before.