Pessimist's Poem

In this world

I am alone when distraction is longed for

Timid when outgoingness is called for



I am a heartbeat away

from capping off the worst life



Slipping into a sedentary habit

Indifference is quite biased

against living



I used to be a participant

Lollygagged for many calendars

And now…?


Trying to resist menial work

Jumping high, fingers on the edge

Curl them, pull up and fall again


Cannot commit suicide

My instincts bar me

from murdering myself


So, I am trapped, yes?

Head hung, bowing to the moss

on bricks


Some around me

pretend to be

living as who they were not meant to be



on the other hand

have given up the sham


The hope is the croak

of the frog itself


I tell an optimist this:

Go fuck yourself

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