The Devil Bought My Boredom
Reality, my bane;
mundanity, my employer.
If I could sell boredom,
life would be livelier.
Fantasy, my dream;
my imaginings, my world.
I live to this day
raised submerged.
Sanity, my uncertainness;
Questions, my inner philosopher.
Searches for a reason to exist
before life is over.
Insanity, my antipathy;
my apathy, my signature.
If the bane continues,
I will snap for sure.
Paradise, my hell.
I should have been careful
about what I wish for
And I hear a yell!
It's the sound of bells.
Oh, if only I didn't sell
to the devil's tales!
This poem is about:
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: