40 Years of Work, Then Death

A Poem by J. R.

A poem for those who are stuck in a dead end job that they can't escape from

The idealism of youth

All is good, And all is grand

Then you realize where you stand

Working nine to five

Just to stay alive

Memories from childhood glow in your brain

While management yanks on your chain

"When I grow up, I wanna be an astronaut"

This was never the life you sought

Forty years of work then death

Forty years and death

That's all that's left

Your hair thins and you nerves crack

You feel a constant ache in your back

You sit at home and reminisce

Back when there was more than this

Graduating college and shaking hands

Now subject to corporate demands

Thirty years of work then death

Thirty years and death

That's all that's left

A bottle in hand

This was not the plan

You had talent, you had dreams

Tears flowing down in streams

As everything bright and surreal

is crushed under reality's heel

Twenty years of work then death

Twenty years and death

That's all that's left

White hair and wrinkled skin

Now officially a has-been

Just another sad old man

Nearing the end your lifespan

All used up and thrown away

Left to wallow in your dismay

Ten years of work then death

Ten years and death

That's all that's left

© 2010 J. R.

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Reviews

roarke

Everything is here. You get the idea early on, but I might like to see what happens once you reach the ten year point and what comes after.
Is there a reverse realization? Is there a redemption event? Is the inevitable banality postulated by this prose the end, or is there some thread of light still left? I got an open ended impression here... just my take. Well done poem at the core.