Apathy

A victory ode.

Apathy.

This way.

That is just the way things are.

Fat chance.

No way.

“Remember this my son… Rome wasn’t built in a day.” — Everyone

That will never change. It is too heavy. It can not move. We are in a crunch. Oh well. Worry about it tomorrow. Don’t let it ruin your lunch.

Break.

Take a break.

Slow down.

Put on the brakes.

Why should a puddle think he is a lake? This whole fits so well. It is swell in fact. Now the sun comes out and disappears this act. This is just the way things are.

Apathy.

I could end the poem here

Nobody would care. They expect it and won’t detect that I loathed deep despair.

I have published shorter on taller orders already to be fair.

But this one, it hurts me. Don’t desert me my steer. I have a fear that you miss what is dear and so near.

When the whole body can talk but no ear listens, when the water we drink ominously glistens

with oil,

We boil