The Note

He awakens to bleakened morning.
All might as well be lost.
He has failed.
His body contorts to life’s rhythm.

Servitude to others;
Uncaring masters of single consciousness.
When the coffin closes

They suddenly care.

Blind to the aches,
By now, the eyes fill salty.

Hating the monotonous life,
He seeks freedom;
While receiving the daily whip,
Success ignored.

Like all others
He is above all selfish,
All selflessness punished,
All attempts to help unpaid.

Forever missing the caress;
The cure for all ills,
Security and servitude.
Love.

This is the testament;
His life useless,
Feeling constantly
Inferior.

Alone in the dark,
Introverted suicide.
Wanting what he can’t have:

He struggles on,
He sees others
Who won’t profit;

As the doors close,
And he is resolved.