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!
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
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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