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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1525018
A depressing poem about failure and giving up.
In the beginning starting a business was a joke.
A topic of jest between my co-workers and I.
Imagine it, they said, breaking out of this factory,
No mandatory overtime, no dreary new day: A free man.
It was a wonderful, but stupid joke.

Then it became a dream.
A fancy vision of a distant future.
I could see the steps I'd need to take,
and follow their path to grand success.
It was a beautiful dream.

Soon it evolved into a plan.
A year of Sundays were set aside
to discover my passion and create my business.
Smart, I thought, not to rush into it.
It was an exciting goal.

But after a while, it was a chore.
My wants were numerous, but my passions nil.
Six months went by and I hadn't decided.
Doubts grew and insecurity ruled.
It was a horrible chore.

In the end, I realized it was a lie.
Yet another way to deny a dull reality
I cracked. I gave up. I didn't even try.
Pretty much like always,
In the end, it was all a lie.
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