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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
It really sucks to be unemployed....

Submitted: October 05, 2011

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Submitted: October 05, 2011



What arcane knowledge

can be gleaned off a sheet of paper?

Is it not just words,

noting the dates of

beginnings and endings of prior lives?

What scintillating conversation can be made

over so much banality?

How is it that I am judged

by the shoes I wear

and the hairstyle I don,

rather than the content of my mind

and the character of my soul?



I am just scratching the surface

of hitting rock bottom

and thus far, not an enjoyable thing.

I have been turned away,

brushed past and

pushed aside

all because of a number of dates,

a lack of letters

and the perfume of despair

I must be wearing.

As I walk in to a new inquisitor,

I catch its faint scent,

like wilting jasmine and broken dreams.



I think back, to the lessons of my parents,

the hardships they endured,

and I remember the disdain they had

for the unemployed.

There was a stigma,

"Unemployed" being synonymous for "Loser" -

Have I officially fallen under

such a dubious category?

I can almost hear the mental monologue

as I approach, dignity in hand,

need written plain on my face for all to see,

"there is my daughter,

once a bright spirit, unbounded talent,

and what is there to show for it...

disappointment and shame."

And I hide myself in shame.



When compared to holy war

and decaying worlds,

I know my strife is trivial.

I am not without perspective.

However, tell that to my landlady,

or the grocery store

and see if perspective

can pay your bills.

I am just a step away...



I lament to the heavens to give me strength

and luck,

throw my head back and

let the tears flow with abandon -

to have failed myself, no,

to have failed my children

of the most basic of needs...

I am just a breath away from madness...

To be flung from the intimate walls

which have housed our triumphs

and our downfall,

to be torn apart,

with moonless skies

as my blankets,

obsidian night as my roof,

cold comfort of concrete,

the world-weary city yawning all around me

I am just a step away...


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