The Lifestyle of a Loser
The Lifestyle of a Loser,
displayed among the trash.
An accountant tallied everything I've done
and all the points I've garnered are against me.
If I ground flour from my bones
I'd still deserve all their stones.
This inglorious drawing of my pitiful hopes
is a circled rope on the calendar dating death.
My deck is missing cards, but I still try to play.
If I could win once, it'd be revolutionary.
Lend me the strength to keep at the game
when every frozen promise is the same.
It's reconcilingly annoying
to put up with utter stupidity.
The orchestra plays their song
and they've no need for me to make it wrong.
It's a close shave when you trim away the useless,
even a trustee of Hell would treat me like I've been blessed.
Devil'd be advised to never make a deal with me.
A rebel without a rebellion
is such a common theme.
Is there anything to glean from this concept?
Should we fund this institution
upholding this repetitive nightmare?
A loser could be useful
if they were given a chance to win.
Keep them pinned down
because a winner must never be allowed to lose.
YOU ARE READING
The Dragon Became a Modern Poetaster
PoetryPoetry is a dance of words, a guise of flesh, and a reprise of thought. The myths of old are forgotten on modern tongues. Such adventurous spirits seek new vessels - fresh words to don and call their own. We shall write them home, you and I. Let the...
