The Perfect Life?

I sit at my desk
While deadlines grow near.
The work must get done.

With years of work
My eyes have grown weary,
Hair thinned and grayed.
Late nights became habit,
Weekends spent working.
I was hired young
As a simple mail carrier.
Each day
Brings me closer to the top.

I now have two sons
But no wife.
She said I worked
Too much.
Her words did not bother me.
At work
There were never pictures of her.
It was not love anyway.

Having a wife looked good,
God me promotions,
Nothing more.
After the divorce
There were more promotions.
They knew where my priorities were.
Pictures of my children
Were also
Unknown at work.
Pictures create questions
And questions waste time.

Long ago a choice was made.
What is more important?
Family or work.
The answer was simple
A family
Would not get me further,
But work,
Work defines me.
Who I am,
How I live,
What I wear,
And where I am going.

There are no friends anymore,
But friendships hurt my work.
There is no one there for me
But I am living
A perfect life.

The Perfect Life?

Erin Flynn

Joined February 2008

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

I wrote this poem in class. Our assignment was to take a random picture from a magazine and to become that person. I picked a picture of a middle aged man sitting at in a cramped office with a determined look on his face, and this poem is what I came up with. Hope you enjoy it

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