Friendly Neighborhood Pessimist

Aren't we exactly where we started?

A path we are unable to cross,

Yet a persistent voice in the back of our heads is pushing us forward.

Isn't this precisely what we wanted?

A challenge based on patience and insanity, 

Driving us over the edge, to what we think is success.

When the day is done, aren't we satisfied with this life?

It is a game impossible to win,

But most think there is some kind of ending.

Frivolous, is it not?

To believe that all things have a purpose,

And to live our lives is to fulfill them.

To exist

Is to be someone.

It's absolutely stupid, correct?

To think we had even the slightest chance at being important,

To expect it to fall right into our hands, neatly folded like a wrapped up gift for the holidays.

I'm completely mad, off my rocker.

No need to heed my word, I'm just your friendly neighborhood pessimist.

Just doing my job.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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