There’s nothing going on inside;
The rats have fled the nest.
And those that didn’t leave have died,
Which must be for the best.
And so you wonder how you’ll cope
When forced to face your fate;
Although you once had such great hope,
That hasn’t been of late.
And, more than this, you’re well aware
The difference that you make
Is nothing but the thinnest air
That’s breathed in by mistake.
When all life’s golden laughter’s gone,
There’s only woe to carry on.
Photo by MD. MOSAROF on Unsplash
Dejection
