The Night Of The Coffinmaker Poem by Raj Dronamraju

In the years when I was worth something
Years that went by quickly
I acted as sort of a mini-emperor
Dispensing favors, drunk on my own financially secure boredom
In the years when I had validation
Took validation for grantedNever sought validation, never thought about validation

Who's making a hammering noise at 12 midnight disturbing my sleep?
A neighbor nearby perhaps driving something into wood
They steadily hammer for 20 minutes and there's the sound of something heavy being moved
I think of a coffin which receives each dead me accordingly
The dead me who never got what he wanted as a teenager
The dead me who failed to achieve his goals
The dead me who got trapped in a middle-aged cycle of misplaced contentment, a bottoming out that sneaks up on you

These years when I am worthless
I roll down the bowery of meaningless positive thinking
Give up quick shelters full of decaying boy wonders provide a better place to stay
Their torment like an opera, each note drawn out by a maestro's chorus
For when I felt happiness, it was terrifying
Spent decades afterwards scaring small children with the stories