Destiny's Desperation Unfound

Cover Image

As structures of endless metal are erected,

the little town around the corner fades from memory.

My hands used to wield a scorching iron hammer,

now they grasp nothing but the items at my stationary.

All along the while my voice can manage nothing but a stammer.  


What I once recognized as my kin has regressed

into a faceless classification to be analyzed.

I’m told that only three words remain audible:

Working, middle, upper. Working middle, upper.


How can this be true?

I have a voice!

But am I already through?

It seems I have no choice.


Looking for my past only points towards my lack of a future,

has what I once saw as nature concealed itself as nurture?

Personal desperation calls but the individual’s fate stays unbound.

I’m desperate, where is my home now? I remain unfound. 

Created: Apr 08, 2012

Tags: poem, prose

Andrew Savory Document Media