Isn't It Strange

A poem

Photo by Alexander Mils on Unsplash

The less a dollar is worth
the harder you work to earn it,
while the prices raise and raise.

Fifty dollars for a concert tee,
soon it will be fifty for a beer.
While the same song plays

over and over in your ear
until you're tired of music.
What is music anyway,

notes arranged to emote a feeling,
but nothing captures that despair
of looking back on a wasted life

spent in service of another's gain.
Twenty years, thirty years,
soon it will be fifty years gone

and you're left wondering
where your life went,
spent drilling a hole

in your stomach,
then asking the universe
Why am I starving?