Woe of Man

The dusted blackboard with no chalk
The mundane hiss on my snowy TV
The âthousand yard stareâ as I gawk into thin air
The tears that boredom bestows upon me
âHiya wallâ
Quick, microwave hide
As I give it my all
With no one to chide
My teary eyes glisten
As I look but donât see
I hear but donât listen
As Iâm buried within me
A cavernous sigh
Alike the sigh as we die
But I donât die
Instead I just cry
Surely Valentine
Each perennial day
Even clandestine
Would have his own way
His own way he may have
But if I have mine
Iâll be herald a âChavâ
So here I stay
As in the past
And take each day
As if itâs my last
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