Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Down In the Dumps

I see tomorrow's failure, not its hope.
I hear how my guitar strings are untuned.
I live my life through the past’s microscope—
It makes my smallest flaw gape like a wound.

No matter what I own, I feel my lack.
No matter where I go, I never stay.
My freeway winds up in a cul de sac.
Hard work has got me nowhere, day by day.

My progress has no movement—only motion.
Because I fear defeat, it worships me.
I wear self-pity like it’s suntan lotion.
I throw away the lock to spite the key.

But why? Why crawl as if the ground might drop me?
I’m on my own. So who is there to stop me?

Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

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