An Endless Task
An endless stack of papers await to be filled out
As you write and write
The papers never go away
But yet your ideas get old
Rewritten only a thousand time more over
You soon learn that you have but only two days to complete this paperwork
You are now on your second paper
And this is the first page that you repeat your work
As if you were merely destined to only write one idea
As if that one idea is all that can be created
For it cannot be destroyed nor can anyone change the idea
But as you reflect writing the first page
You feel as though you were just repeating someone else's thought
As if everything you do cannot be original
For it has already been done
There for you cannot create anything new
Nor destroy it
It has been five hours now
You are on your fifteenth paper
You feel the same way as before
But you feel more hopeless as if the work will never be done
For every time you get one done
Twice more come to replace it
You continue ferociously writing
Staying awake day and night hoping to get this done
Soon an advisor walks up to your desk
You are barely able to see her face in the dim light
But you know it must be bad news
For you look back at your stack of papers
You notice that they still are rising
You look up again and she is gone
You go back to writing
It is five years later now
You are severely overdue
You have been writing nonstop day and night
The stack is now completely overflowing onto the floor
You finally decide to stop writing
You get up and walk around the small room
There is only a small one foot gap between the wall and the papers
As you walk around the room you find no exit
You find no door
Nor a vent for air to flow through
There is no way in and no way out
You feel like you're in a place worse than hell
You grab some paper and begin to thread it together
For you want nothing more than death
You find no hook to tie death to
So you find a good stack of papers and try that
It does not work of course
For it merely achieves nothing more than a paper cut across your neck
You try to slice your wrist open with the paper
But the paper merely bends the opposite way than intended
Walking around the room twice more you still find no openings
Not even a crack or a hole
You feel a slight draft behind you
Turning around suddenly to the draft is gone
It happens five times more ending with the same results
You sit upon a stack of papers
you stare directly into the dark wall
After an unknown many of hours you see a figure moving about the wall
Slightly bending at first
But as you continue to watch if begins moving more and more
You slowly stand up as if afraid to startle this new being
It was useless in being cautious
For you have merely scared it away either way
Sitting back down upon the stack for a while longer
Another figure appears
The voice of a light hearted female
She tells you to stay seated ever so kindly
But as you remain seated you begin to sink
Bt first slowly and painfully
But the closer she got
The more it hurt and the more you went under
Your now completely under
For there is no light, no kindness, no love
Not even the faintest trace of your life remains
Nor can you feel any heart left
For the endless sleep and endless work has taken its final toll
And now you alone suffer once again
But this time it's different
For you feel as though you're dying
not in such a soft pleasant way either
Darkness's hand creeps in and grabs you by the throat
a faint smile grows on your lips
But quickly disappears
For it was more painful than imagined
More unbearable than anything else
The endless hole where your heart should be
It simply gobbles up all hope, all love, all feelings
To the point where you feel nothing at all
But you feel... desolate, isolated, cut off from your own trying will
Your soul, your life, your future all gone
But then again, what future did you have to begin with?
A false sense of a future?
Ha, don't make me laugh my friend
For here you are yet again thinking there was a future for you
But in the end it all results in an endless torture
The thoughts of having a nice brilliant family
But in reality you would never truly know them
Nor would you have even had the time to witness the good in them
For you may come home once every year
And see their eyes look down on you
For they merely have grown so past you
You don't hardly exist
But yet here you are now being endlessly choked of a false future
Good bye my sad, sad, desperately hopeless slave
They will never remember you
Nor will I...