Poem: There’s Nothing That’s Meant For You

The absurdity of life,

waking up each morning with the previous night’s flames still burning,

the night before when the promises were made but not fulfilled,

“tomorrow,” you said even though the fire was alive in you,

waking up, the flame all but gone,

diminished by waiting, watching, passivity of your soul,

however, the weakest of embers is all that one needs,

it is enough to engulf the mind again,

but what one needs is absurd,

the need for old habits, when you are trying to make new ones,

sitting, drinking coffee, staring senselessly at a screen,

recalling the thoughts you had of running before you slept,

sipping, watching, thinking how good it’ll feel once the run is over with,

thinking of your promise,

the absurdity,

promise is alive in your head and yet the limbs don’t follow,

they conform to previous wishes,

the ones made out of weakness,

they are ingrained because they are easy, simple, pleasurable,

the new promise made is hard, difficult, and needed,

the promise to do better,

because that’s what you are supposed to do,

everywhere your eyes stare you see people doing better,

feel that you are alone, outcast, isolated who promises himself that you’ll be like that,

one day,

the absurdity,

mindlessly driving to work,

for if you thought, you might drive off a bridge,

at work, the repetition kills you,

repeatedly driving that nail deeper into your thoughts,

thoughts that came up with the promise as an escape,

as a hope for a better tomorrow,

for the nail digs deeper, hurting, a painful reminder of the slow self-inflicted death,

the absurd promise, dying sunshine, flickering light, waning embers,

the kind of life you used to hate to think about,

the life you are living now, stopping yourself from thinking so you can keep living,

the absurdity,

get home, eat, rest, not think,

get in bed and then think,

the promise is still there, unfulfilled, something to aim for tomorrow,

“I’m meant for a better life,” you say to yourself,

the world speaks back in crushing silence,

you sleep your earned rest,

the absurdity of your life repressed another day.

 

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