Pessimist’s Poem

In this world

I am alone when distraction is longed for

Timid when outgoingness is called for

 

Everyday

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

 

I

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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