The Expectation of Approval
The expectation of approval is decay
It creeps in days of illness full of sorrow
You tarry stolidly until it shrinks away
And disappears with the morning croaks of crow
Poor thing, it cannot stop its hoarse lament
At least you hear it this way, although it might
Just laughing, and you fail to understand
What’s going on, what’s happening outside.
As you are always anchored to the past
The future comes unnoticed, which seems great
Forgetfulness takes up a final thrust
Memory wins, but no one cares, it’s too late..
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