He sits in front of his computer screen
demoralised
avoiding the news.
Fixating vacantly on its pixels.
Demoralised, crestfallen
He drifts
amongst feelings of rejection,
misuse.
The long night
still showing in his red, tired and baggy eyes;
the open window to his depressed soul
rejected by that 4:40 alarm call.
Why him?
Yesterday he had it all.
Now nothing, redundant;
ousted, displaced.
Dejected.
His unplanned future
waits before him as an empty screen.
© Sheila Ash, 11 May 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment