I’m walking again, same old road,
Realizing my life ain’t unique or
special
Nor my experiences.
The older folk round here
Have already done and seen
Many of the things I
am now, just as people in the future will be walking in my shoes.
“Things take on a repeat,” no better way to sum it up, Bukowski.
It don’t take away the fact that life is hell for some, if not all of us.
I sit around all day taking calls, realizing it’s going to be the same type of
calls over and over:
“My kid needs this medication;”
“Why can’t I get my money?”
“Could you spell that, sir?”
“Ask her this!”
It’s all the same. Same calls and situations a million times over no matter the time or place.
No different from moving boxes from place to place in the warehouse all night. Except the warehouse pays better.
Not the future I imagined filled with novelty and my loved ones. Quite the opposite.
Ironic, isn’t it?
Nothing really changes.
“Ain’t nothing new under the sun, eh cousin?”