I'm stuck in a rut.
Too fatigued to escape.
Due to previous failed attempts.
The more I try to clime
The deeper I slide
To my cold, dark, moist abyss
Where I'm forced to call my humble abode.
They tell me to keep my chin up.
They tell me to never look down.
They tell me it's almost over.
They tell me to be satisfied with what I have.
Then what is over?
Will it get any better than this?
What do I even have to me name?
For now, I will slide.
I'll suck it up, pretend I have no idea of what's going on.
But still come join me, in my deep, dark, moist,
Yet still slightly charming,
Humble abode.
Adding your comment: