futile

This poem describes that bittersweet feeling of not being able to truly take in the joy that you are feeling due to not being in a good financial position. Because you know that at the end of the day

“futile”

by vän leon

in the safety of my friend’s alcantara car seats

this warmth is only temporary;

a fleeting burn akin to the first sip of a hot comforting drink. 

there’s a flame in my heart that’s begging to be put out

“oh , won’t you end my misery?” he’s pleading;

hot tears are spilling from his eyes

clutching all the hope he has for the future like a little kid carrying too many grocery bags

sweaty palms and swollen fingers with the circulation cut off

living a task that i don’t know if i’m up for

reclining our seats feels futile;

no matter how much we rest, our labor is endless.