IN THE HANDS OF CIRCUMSTANCE.

Assembling what I call a building block,

To gain easy access to a coping stock,

Energy is used on mundane woe,

To the insatiable index of debts I owe,

A passing phase that seems to last a

Long time,

That's a constant irritation in the back

Of my mind,

Maybe irrigation has wetted the seeds

To grow,

In a destiny of torment that suffering

knows,

Of the after effects the acts of society

And circumstance that has diagnosed,

My being forced into adapting no

Choice in the say for happiness to flow.