Futility Poem by Robert Edgar Burns

</>Life is not what it used to be.
So little happiness, too much disease.
Every day, working by the hour
If we stay late,
Our mood gets sour

If The job’s not done
In the time allotted
You’re called “Too slow, ”
And your record is blotted!

Keeping this pace up
For the rest of life,
Can only lead to
Misery and strife!

Life must hold more
Than this daily commotion.
But if I complain
I’m denied promotion.

Why keep on going,
And why should I care?
I can only find reasons
For my deep despair!

“See the bright side, ”
I’ve heard some utter,
While locked indoors
Peeking through the shutters.

Something I am sure
Is passing me by.
I don’t know what,
And I don’t know why!

My reason for loving
Is a cloudy phase.
In a tortured heart,
That is all I’ll say!
I’ll try smiling tomorrow,
It’s a brand new day!

In all the dark poetry I write, I am drawing on my experiences as a Law Enforcement Officer and receiving ideas from what others have actually said to me over the years! I am a happy go lucky guy who just tries to convey the anguish of others in verse. Here’s to a brighter future!