A short poem I wrote...I know the punctuation may not be correct, but I'm trying how e.e cummings wrote, with no punctuation or capitalized letters

when i think about the game of life, it isn't always fair
probably because most people purposly decide not to care
the game of life isn't a game at all
though it seems like one, taking fall after fall
we have our moments when we shine
and when the moments are not in line
there's death and life all wrapped in one
people live each day to see the rise of the sun
and those who don't make it through the night
i pray that their families will be alright
so all in all, life's a cruel game, no?
say, the world is indeed a place of woe