Futility

Pathetic, futile, wasted

I see all of my choices

And the steam that rises

Up from piles

On the ground around me

Yeah, I’ve got some regrets

And I’m ok with that

(As if it were my choice)

They say it leads to character

Well, yeah, I’ve got plenty of that…

Maybe I’ve even more than I bargained for

The world is escaping me day by day

I feel less and less a part of it

I’ve drifted in my flight

And often failed in my fight

But that’s the way it is

And that’s the way it goes

Any regret that’s left reminds me

That I don’t know as much as I think I know

It’s not a shame

The way of things is change

I’ll be old before I know it

If I’m ‘lucky’ enough to reach it

An old bitter bastard

Wishing the dying would come a little faster

Hating on the soulless youth

Where one of every thousand

Might have a clue

Maybe it’s just this thing

Called character they’re missing

Maybe…

Somehow something more seems lost

Having seen how the world has changed

And not for the better

Seeing how I too have changed

And I doubt, with my signature evil laugh

That this too, has been for the better

Not that I have any clue

What exactly defines the word ‘better’

Or how that relates to real life

But with little love left in this heart

The body decayed, and the mind the same

The ability to see the beauty in things, also diminished

I’ve so little hope left in hope

And here I am, only 30 years old

But maybe an angel will come

And breathe some hope into this soul

But chances are the saboteur will rise

From this whore inside

And as always I say

Go ahead, walk, its your right

There’s no such thing as fighting ‘the good fight’

And this sure as hell isn’t an apology

Because forgiveness has more to do

With the forgiver than the forgivee,

As is the same with atoning apologies…

So what little hope when

Is wasted again

On something as pathetic or futile as love

It’s painfully obvious we don’t always rise above

One regret will stand the test of time

Or is that simply the quality of life?

So fuck any indulgence in indecision!

Embrace it or abandon it!

What will it mean to ‘the soul?’

What’s it going to mean when I’m old?

Let me tell you something,

We’re all rotting in the same boat

It’s just that I’m taking notes

These questions will never cease…

And I know, the answers will seldom please

ⓒ 2005 Shawn Michael Quinn