Keep On Pushing
The blues is just a bad dream…
Adversity comes along with life,
woven into its fabric like lead thread.
Stubbed toes. Broken hearts. The IRS.
Misery follows like a Greek chorus,
a chanting reminder of ongoing fuck ups.
If you knew the plot ahead of time,
you would drop your script and flee.
Death in a bath. Three roads that meet.
The Fates are not distracted by joy.
Dragging the iron ball of misfortune
finally becomes unnoticed second nature,
an anonymous weight that’s part of you.
You take up your task like Sisyphus.
Shoulder your burden like Atlas.
Offer up your liver like Prometheus.
Until, like Sybil, shrunken and old,
you strongly sense that nothing makes,
bent beneath each woeful sigh
only dreaming of the chance to die.
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