It’s not unprecedented to despair,
or even interesting. Who hasn’t mewled
his melancholy, yammered like a fool
pathetic in the street as children stared
and minutes passed and pensioners were kind,
or mumbled in some high place while the low
mean ground hissed invitations? But now grow
out of it and leave such selfish angst behind
to teenagers and the authentic crazed;
such comic desolation is too stark,
and there are optimistic married ways
of being happy that you could be trying.
So let it wait, the large outlandish dark.
It will be just as dark when you are dying.
Mike Stocks
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