Running Into Dead Ends
A poem/rant
Fingers dig deep, crushing curls drenched in sweat,
Recanting old teachings and academic beliefs,
Unable to find the answers I seek, failing to please,
Screech through pursed lips at the work left incomplete,
They are the problem, those lazy fools that sleep adrift in stagnant dreams,
Reaping the gains while I dig myself a nice grave that's deep,
Appealing to my better demons while angels beg for sleep,
Time twirling teasing, telling me the hours I spend are cheap,
Each second on broken glass and rusty nails I leap,
Do you think the problem is me?
Why? The question rings, running around with vermin feet,
In circles, chasing tales spewing out through ignorant teeth,
Trying to piece together a puzzle that was flawed on release,
How is the system so broken?
Where are the detailed records they were meant to keep?
Over budget, work unfinished, where does the paper trail lead?
Right to no-where, no-how, no-when, no-what, no nothing, not even a peep,
Keen on finding answers? Forget it, all are drowned in lies and deceit.
