Awaiting The Next Fall


What else is there to do,

when you are constantly tripped up,

knocked down and trampled over?

I have no sure footing left

for which to place my feet,

for nothing is sure anymore,

nothing except this pain,

nothing except physical torture.

So I await the next fall,

the next dose of bad news

I am forced to swallow

in choking gasps.

Sure I am wallowing in this self-pity.

But hell, I think I am entitled.

The fake smile only masks this agony

and is a lie to myself and all who see.

Why should I live in false pretense

when the reality is this?

I am fooling nobody,

most of all myself.

So screw the hope,

screw the believing in a better tomorrow!

Life has only screwed me,

so why make believe its all

sunshine and roses,

when its really all clouds and thorns?

I'm awaiting the next fall,

for its certain to come my way

before very long.

Its certain to come to pass,

as it always does.

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