Survival Techniques

After a long writer's block, this is what I keep up with. The gist of this poem is that your 20s suck and adulting kills you on the inside. Enjoy!

A sad girl in a dingy room

The faint patter is my alarm today
Reaching my ears 1 hour late
First October morning that feels light
Today might be for living, I think
Unless I die at the pedestrian-crossing

It's weird, isn't it?
It's 9.30, 9.31, 9.32
And then noon
But no sun 
Can warm you
No lights can
Brighten your room

I try to hum and kickstart
Get a beat somewhere, somehow
I might as well play Enheduanna
In a beautiful concert hall
Well, do I get points for trying?

It's dark outside
Now my day starts
Along with my hate-train
It's the same
Always been
Loss is my only gain

I'll live another day, always do
Pray to Sisyphus and learn
Survival techniques for the dead
Tomorrow might be a great day, I think
If I remember to not wake up again

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