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An existential poem about the uselessness of life.


Submitted:Jan 19, 2011    Reads: 22    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


A gray-haired man near fifty-two
Is staggering through the storms of life,
He's given up on dreams of success
He now merely struggles to survive.

Without real help from parliament
He tries to struggle on alone,
A lonely man without a family
He's forced to get by on his own.

An invalid on a paltry pension
He struggles to even pay his rent,
Through he has to report to CentreLink
He gets no real help from government.

Life's storms have nearly broken him
But still he somehow struggles on,
Although he no longer dares to dream
And all his hopes are surely gone.

Life's storms can break the strongest man
The way they've nearly broken this one,
But somehow he'll keep a struggling on
Until his final day has come.

He wonders on without alone and lonely
The end of life he hopes is near
Since nothing ever warms his life,
And nothing more can bring him cheer.

He storms of life have broken him
He staggers on in resignation,
Resentful of his very life
A life without any expectations.

Still he cannot take his life
His preacher says it tis a crime,
So he staggers through each day
Just seeing out his time.


THE END
© Copyright 2010
Philip Roberts





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