high pressure
but no sign of a storm
fetching meds
© Rachel Green August 2022
when I was young
and as idealistic
as every other twenty year old
I expected a bright future
taking the art scene by storm
with my great canvases.
Instead I became a little cog
in the great wheel of government
plodding away in a nine-to-five.
Near the end now
(and overdue, according to fortune teller
I was briefly in love with)
I am a writer of nothing;
an author with no audience
playing games on the computer
with my Amazon ranking.
© Rachel Green August 2022
No comments:
Post a Comment