A Poem

What happened to you, myself?

No more hope wandering

Weighed down by the pillars of society

Trapped in a cubicle jungle

Laughing with dying men at sour jokes

Lying through teeth of tigers

Fierce at the hunting hour

Stalking a pray of grandeur

Forcing the misconception of relevance onto dullness

What happened to you, myself?

Of questioning sprits now unearthed

Scrolling past statues to judge lies of steel machines

Conjuring up get-rich quick scams for 20-year lives

Commuting back and forth between dream and reality

Finding no time to take a leap

Only questioning one’s self

Fear of failure playing faint tunes

What happened to you, myself?

A year away from commonality

Scaring yourself into the back of the herd

Wanting to lead but not be led

Writing to release contemporaries

Prosing through to express pink undersides

Feeling the urge of the seductive temptress

Wanting to seem the stronger person

What happened to you, myself?

Playing tricks in the back of your head

Dealing our hands against the odds

The future unwritten

Splitting the atom of success and anonymity

Correcting the state of boredom through drug

Finding an excuse four nights of the week

Put it on the rocks to comfort the headache

What happened to you, myself?

Now you must become a man, son

Look into the light

And feel the weight of responsibility

Stuck in a roller chair of lost aspirations

Lost in a sea of text, paper, dried ink of waste

Floating on a platform of what ifs

Young discontinuing relevance

What happened to you, myself?

Struggling above the line

Crawling away from the pit of victims

Summing up feelings through plastered after thoughts

What happened to you, myself?

Entangled in weeks of false lore

Stepping in puddles raining from doubt

Thinking ever turn will led to a dead end

Doubting the conclusion that you’ve done enough

Running from pestering ghosts

Climbing to meet expectations

Only breathing on the weekends

What happened to you myself?

A brick in the ocean

Floating along; waiting

Past rosy afternoons fading into black evenings

Running out of false time