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
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