The Alienated Laborer

End of the trail? Here's your sign.

I used to be good. Talented, wanted.

Gave everything and still had more to give.

I reached the plateau, and found another trail.

Went by the wayside to be more valued.

It didn’t work. Now I’m not important.

Climb the mountain again to reach the base.

So much progress lost in a decision.

And where to go from here? I can’t turn back.

I’ve come too far to turn and go back down.

I have to keep climbing. They laugh at me.

Mocking elders who are no more than peers.

Down a different path. One experience.

I stop my march and take a break for rest.

Sit down on the side of the dusty trail.

Often traveled, but for me the first time.

I start to wonder, and it makes me cry.

So many have come before and not failed.

Have I reached my limit of worth in life?

A mid-life crisis, not at the center.

It is soon, and shouldn’t happen often.

Another broken soul. Emptiness leaked.

I smear my face with dirt and stand up.

Keep walking down the trail until the end.

Nobody can see what my face can hide.

Another victim of life. Should have died.


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