Do you ever get the feeling that you could be working much less and be much happier than you are now? Being young destroys you nowadays.
Poem text.
Always pointless, pointless still.
To work without a passion
just to pay a single bill,
to rid my days of action,
gives me nothing—not a thrill.
I gather checks to cash in,
yet in doing so I kill
the dreams and satisfaction
that I’ve worked to soon fulfill.
This sweating for the ration,
for the taste of passing thrill,
is nothing but distraction
from the life I toil until.
To work without a passion,
through my youth and strength of will,
has turned into abstraction—
always pointless, pointless still.
As you’ve done, find passion in your art young friend. Life is long and will bring you wonders not yet imagined.
Such a great use of rhyme, and you capture the fleeting feeling of working through your youth very well. Nice work!