Yeah, life is though. Though not really, guess I just feel better letting it all out.
Why is it that everything seems dark and dreary?
My life seems like a struggle, my life seems like a march.
A march that never ends, with no goal in mind.
Why do I sit, sit and do nothing?
Why don't I go looking? Looking for something to do?
How is it that every thing's a struggle?
Down here, everything is hard and without joy.
I am alone, my family far away.
My work consumes me, my soul, my fire.
Everything seems so dreary, even the country is without colour.
I see myself, all alone, so annoyed, so full of... nothing.
The greatest chance in my life, my dreams can come true.
All I need to do, is suffer through, to fight on.
Why is this so hard? Should it not be a blessing?
A chance to prove what I can, to make life easier for later.
Yet it feels like a burden, one that holds me down.
It sucks at my spirit, at my life and at my strength.
Nothing is left, only the next day counts.
There is no certainty here, only more work, less joy and a vacation in the distance.
Poetry by QuiZZer
Read 1180 times
Written on 2007-05-19 at 21:28
Tags Work Life
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Struggles of life
Why does my life seem so hard when I'm here?Why is it that everything seems dark and dreary?
My life seems like a struggle, my life seems like a march.
A march that never ends, with no goal in mind.
Why do I sit, sit and do nothing?
Why don't I go looking? Looking for something to do?
How is it that every thing's a struggle?
Down here, everything is hard and without joy.
I am alone, my family far away.
My work consumes me, my soul, my fire.
Everything seems so dreary, even the country is without colour.
I see myself, all alone, so annoyed, so full of... nothing.
The greatest chance in my life, my dreams can come true.
All I need to do, is suffer through, to fight on.
Why is this so hard? Should it not be a blessing?
A chance to prove what I can, to make life easier for later.
Yet it feels like a burden, one that holds me down.
It sucks at my spirit, at my life and at my strength.
Nothing is left, only the next day counts.
There is no certainty here, only more work, less joy and a vacation in the distance.
Poetry by QuiZZer
Read 1180 times
Written on 2007-05-19 at 21:28
Tags Work Life
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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