all the reasons people find
to work until they die,
and stay alive.
We all have reasons-
but everything we do,
are we proud of them?
I am finding it more difficult each day,
to live with choices that I’ve made
since I’ve been here.
It is fancy and folly to work so hard
in hope it brings us happiness.
We don’t want for death
But we don’t particularly live,
I’ve resigned to
that has no fat,
Assisting those that insist
on courting disappointment.
I have myself deluded to believe
a rapid expense of energy on things like these
might bring me Enthusiasm and Vivacity.
Of course, I am depressed
This kind of work has no return.
And, I am so dying to break free.