Entire days spent chasing suits
that don’t exist
and serve no purpose,
Tearing money out of pocket
just to find
door-like cable box––
A bleary disillusionment
sweeps like ice
across kindled hope,
And each bit of anxiety
falls away
and turns to anger
At wasting days under pretense,
swindled out
of dear volition

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About andrewwhiting

A sentimental and sarcastic poet, lover of language, traveling and nature (not a fan of the Oxford comma).
This entry was posted in Poem, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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