Woe of Man

The dusted blackboard with no chalk

The mundane hiss on my snowy TV

The ‘thousand yard stare’ as I gawk into thin air

The tears that boredom bestows upon me

“Hiya wall”

Quick, microwave hide

As I give it my all

With no one to chide

My teary eyes glisten

As I look but don’t see

I hear but don’t listen

As I’m buried within me

A cavernous sigh

Alike the sigh as we die

But I don’t 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

I’ll be herald a ‘Chav’

So here I stay

As in the past

And take each day

As if it’s my last