In What Generation Does This Exist?

If death came tomorrow it would not be soon enough
For this life I live is nothing to write about
Struck with this loneliness and despair with no end
Will I be happy even if my life would end
Oh probably not for that would be relief
And a breath in the dark or a release

Maybe I could fire this musket into my head
Or perhaps I could put some rope to good use
And let the feet dangle to and fro
And I could bask in that deathly glow
Of my body gasping for it’s last breath
The gallows would be a glorious sight

Why is life so hard sometimes
It’s like God has this cruel streak
That He wishes his creations to bare through
Like superman before he flew
Except at least he still had super speed
While I’m left at this snails pace

This nine to five every day it just won’t stop
Same ole thing every day and every night
Get up early to sign my day away
Its all work and there is no play
And then it’s time for me to go home
And spend the rest of the night alone

And all my friends they seem to smile
Though underneath they hide it all
They all sense this need to pity me
But without that alone I would be
Like the single wolf that howls at the night
Just its silhouette outlined in the moonlight

I took this picture of me and my girl
When it turned out neither of us showed
This is because she doesn’t exist
And in the depths of this tale I don’t either
Just me and my ghosts that keep me company
As I blankly stare and they play cards with me

Is this the beginning or perhaps the end?
Those ghosts remind me of all my sin
And they encourage me in between our bouts
Of our rousing games of hide and seek.
Which of course is really not fair
For I am afraid of their stealth and ghastly stare

My sadness haunts me like Blackbeard
Coming aboard with his beard aflame
And as he made me walk the plank
I could feel my heart and body as they sank
Finally would I be in the grip of death
Was there really ever any life left?

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One Response to “In What Generation Does This Exist?”

  1. Chris Carone Says:

    This is a great poem too…and there’s no way that I pity you. You, who knows what my sadness is and what my heart reveals to me only to be unsatisfied with what could but cannot be…

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