I rush off
Like I’ve got somewhere to be
Something to do
Or someone to see

But that’s a lie
Cause the reality is it’s just gonna be me
Scared and alone and devoid of esprit
Asking the same questions repeatedly
‘Why do I end conversations so quickly?
And why do I flee
When all that I crave is company?’

Daily
I attempt to reconcile this hypocrisy
But the internal enquiry
Just yields me a dark prophecy
It states with nihilistic glee that
‘Happiness is impossible to guarantee’

Oh well
At least my family
Can use this poetry on my obituary

So if you’re reading this
Please ignore the depravity
The dead should be looked upon positively
Their transgressions forgotten to the pasts obscurity

I’m left wondering if this pain a function of my pedigree
If it was meant to be
Or if I brought it upon me
Cursed by fate and my family tree
Or by god and a world that rewards functionality
And profit derived from cruelty
Take what you can and fuck all that disagree
Prosperity if your right as long as you are free
As long as you agree

I’m so angry
And tired
And disproportionately craving insobriety
The only thing keeping me here is my children’s plea
Daddy won’t you come play with me?

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Poetry

Zachary Phillips