Bills piling up, past salaries to get,
Soul-crushing labor, till targets are met.
When I look up close, life seems Hell,
I'm not getting paid, but am ready to sell.
Don't wish for something, it might come true,
I'd pined for a calling, through and through,
Boasting I'd pay, to do a meaningful job,
The prophecy fulfilled- why this hue and sob?
When I scrutinize in detail, it gets magnified, and it hurts,
When I zoom out and distance, almost a hilarity lurks.
How to see it for what it is- balancing purpose and plight,
I might not have earned a lot, but it all seems so right.
My life is a looming tragedy, I'm struggling to survive,
It's also a slapstick comedy; the more I slip, I come alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment