The Devil Bought My Boredom

Reality, my bane;

mundanity, my employer.

If I could sell boredom,

life would be livelier.

 

Fantasy, my dream;

my imaginings, my world.

I live to this day

raised submerged.

 

Sanity, my uncertainness;

Questions, my inner philosopher.

Searches for a reason to exist

before life is over.

 

Insanity, my antipathy;

my apathy, my signature.

If the bane continues,

I will snap for sure.

 

Paradise, my hell.

I should have been careful

about what I wish for

 

And I hear a yell!

It's the sound of bells.

Oh, if only I didn't sell

to the devil's tales!

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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