Their Chosen Disease

I watch a sunset 
 that I'd love to share 
 and nobody sees it but me 
   
 I'm scratching my head 
 in utter amazement 
 that nobody cares much to see 
   
 Things to accomplish 
 things to get done 
 a million things every day 
   
 And all of these things 
 have one thing in common 
 they manage to get in the way 
   
 "In the way of what?" 
 as you may well ask 
 "I'm doing my best to get by." 
   
 And oh, what a shame 
 so sad and so true 
 we squander our lives 'til we die 
   
 And doing their best 
 devoid of expression 
 their faces are empty and bleak 
   
 So busy, so dizzy 
 en masse, repetition 
 robotically, chronically weak 
   
 And what are they doing? 
 Yes, why such devotion 
 to this seemingly endless malaise? 
   
 They're taking a rain check 
 and storing up treasures 
 and longing for much brighter days 
   
 No time for a sunset 
 no walks in the park 
 no place for a soft ocean breeze 
   
 They march on in madness 
 a dutiful army 
 en route to their chosen disease 
   

© Mike Wise 
 9/13/14

Tags: Sad, Rhyme, Beat, Metaphor, Depressing, Pain, Dark, Deep,