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Drudgery
2007-12-13 - 11:45 a.m.
before/after
strangely
non-functional guestbook
drudgery
And I think of
the things I've lost
that have been taken away from me,
jobs,
love and relationships,
friends,
opportunities,
when I walk here.
The marble halls echo
with a small black child
playing the requiem to star wars,
on the baby grand piano,
in the lobby,
he, a prodigy,
soothing the restless souls,
with his precocious talent,
me dressed in all black,
as is my way,
seeing the cancer children,
bald,
pushed along by their parents,
barely able to lift their heads,
old women with treach holes in their necks,
fighting for their last breath,
while I will go on and on and on,
still suffering every step of the way,
and I wonder who got the worst of the deal,
the three way handshake
between God, the Devil and a Soul
come to Earth...for what?
Those innocent children
will be dead before their time,
angelic in demeanor
morbid in countenance,
the very face of grim reality
and the vast unfcirness of the world.
I would trade places with them in a minute
but would they trade their innocence
for my packet of tawdry memories
and reeking past of failure?
Would they give up their blessed innocence
and live only to suffer another day?
I stride along, the requiem playing in my ears
and I nearly cry,
for there is no continuum on which we both belong,
it is only the horrors of the drudgery of life.
I should be out achieving and contribuiting to society,
they should be out playing and chasing bumblebees,
and neither of us should be here.
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