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.