Soon Enough

My words have never put food on the table,
never paid a mortgage,
never provided a day of rent,
never influenced a generation,
never brought tears to the eyes of angels,
never made a difference to anyone
but me;

and I never listen
to them either.

They have always been just words,
never anything more,
never anything less,
never something
worth suffering or sacrificing for;

never something worth dying for.

They have never been anything more
than a minor inconvenience,
stroking inflated egos,
impressing weak-minded women,
influencing over-bearing idiots,
a litany of unimaginative wit and charm,
famous for their infamous demeanor,
nothing but meaningless dribble
on a cold March morning;

nothing more than a
damn crying shame.

The hunger consumes,
the hunger divides,
conquering divisions and rifts,
preying upon empty skeletons,
alone and unprepared,
empty and afraid,
soon enough it will come,
just as you always feared,
soon enough you will be
right where you belong,
right where you were meant to be;

soon enough.
.
.