If I”m a troglodyte
I”ve been etched with a solid anvil and a light hammmer
Only to make the ordeal slow
Driving the pain of birth to the soul
From prescription strength suicide
Over decades of failure
By muscle of lifting alchohol
And my book of menial labor
I”ve never won anything for permanence
Lost by death or insanity
I”m tired of my being
And the working struggle just to stay
Who wants this job?
You get in like anything free
Just a fluke