Does man shovel his pride into his drawer of depression once more?
Or must he manipulate himself into thinking he’s had an honest good day?
Must he lie to himself once more to feel accomplished?
Or does he feel that his routine life has become mundane and worthless?
Surely this must not be the case, for he must check himself night after night
For a sense of worth in the spectrum of life!
Why can’t he wrap himself around the concept of normality and happiness?
Abundant money, materials, and even love do not even phase his dark depression
So he continues to put his life into question as his pondering becomes an obsession
Man will eventually become tired of the mundane he seeks to clarify
As his long night struggles with his sense of worth and change evolve into a cry
A useless cry he knows
Man knows there will never be an answer to this question
So he will sit on the edge of his bed night after night
Feeding his vicious cycle of unwarranted hopelessness
Man’s closest antidote to life’s search of meaning tonight
Will be what it will be tomorrow night
He can lie
He can lie to himself forever as he lets denial win this ongoing fight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beatiful poem...it's funny not many people get through the path of askin these questions from life....: -)