My Sorrow is Your Happiness | a poem

You start today,

While for me, tomorrow.

You feel alive because of your pay,

I feel mine for my sorrow.

It’s twisted, I know,

But the strings I see are never straight,

The food around me on a twisted plate,

The life I live depends on a twisted fate,

My love for you, I think of till late.

Monetized and commercialized,

The history and meaning in a pitiful plight.

It was too late when I realized,

I just hope you won’t quit without a fight.