THE ABYSS WITHIN

There’s a void where my faith should be

A dark black hole at the heart of me

In a life full of isms.

Pessimism, and nihilism,

Which I fight with exhibitionism and bohemianism

But it doesn’t work and neither do I

I only enjoy life because it takes my mind off the day I die

My faith lies in Murphy’s Law

Where the lion eats me after I take the thorn from its paw

The politicians are corrupt

I expect my life to end in an abrupt

Conclusion

Is that headache a brain haemorrhage blood contusion?

I find no comfort in faith in God

And I find those who do so rather odd

And here’s my biggest blasphemy.

I have no faith in love, romance or matrimony.

I sit around moping, with my head in a book

Voltaire’s Pangloss thinks we live in the best of all possible times

I see only an age of poverty, war, disease and crimes

I console myself with wine and beer

Giving myself a superficial fleeting sense of cheer

Deadening my senses to take the pain away

And that’s me on a good day.

© Copyright. Arthur Chappell 2010