Sullen

By A Poem Guy

I wonder.

When the roof comes down and the tiles uncounted,

Should I be happy by now?

When the ash blows away and the charred wood unmounted,

Should I be happy today?

The foundation crumbles,

Beds collapse,

the roof caves in.

Revealing the inside to the sullen sky.

Green grass to grey,

Emerald to worthless hay

And though I don’t mean to be a pessimist,

There just seems to be no water in my cup today.

I wonder.

When I walk and the pavement sinks

Under my feet,

Should I let it take me?

The cold darkness of concrete?

I wonder.

When my shirt chokes my neck,

Suffocation,

Should I let it happen?

Suffering a small torture every single day?

I wonder.

When sitting on a leather seat makes my skin stick and bleed,

Should I just keep sitting?

Never moving to avoid the pain?

I wonder.

Would my life be more complete,

If there was joy instead of upkeep?

Why repeat every action again and again,

Under the roofless home we call life, alone on our own,

Struggling to stay right.

Asking why I feel sullen is like asking why a gambler gambles and a god meddles.

What else is there to do?

The repetition will come regardless.

Might as well have something to pursue.