Viewed from such an unsteady perch
an unbroken yet poorly drawn line in the sand
fails to indicate what is theirs
or separate what is mine, only dividing,
then birthing cold grievances between adversaries
and acquaintances, sometimes even friends.
Finding discrepancies in what matters,
some tied and tightly bound
with wire wound strings
till no hope of progress exists
brings failure of even tightly closed fists,
these where no solace is to be found
can foster dark hatred of this life.
Waiting for imminent heartbreak
where any future appears ever more grim
has worn down an already sad store of esteem.
Leaving unfulfilled ambition dulled by frequent mistakes
while hopelessness, by hard depression, is invoked.
People’s will to persist too diluted
by stresses too numerous to accurately list.
Satisfaction watered down by unceasing strife,
while arguments for pessimism not so easily refuted,
like aging prostitute’s that have never been kissed,