Hanky Panky

I feel just like that old grey squirrel, whose belly is empty as can be. He keeps on searching for those acorns, but he has climbed up a maple tree. He worked hard and long the whole darn year, burying his food out on the lawn. But when he went back to grab a snack, he had found the whole damn thing was gone. All because some stupid bureaucrat, said he had filled out all the wrong forms. Now there’s nothing left of his nest egg, to help him survive the winter’s storms. I keep rolling the dice for sevens, somehow, I always end up with eight. Each time I think I’ve reached the garden, someone has already locked the gate. Now I’m too old to hanky panky, and I’m too tired to even care. Point me towards the supper table, and just see how fast I’ll make it there. So don’t dare ask me where I’m going, 'cause I can’t remember where I’ve been. I’m sick of always losing the race, Just when will it be my turn to win? Why do I keep reaching for those dreams, when I know they’re unattainable. Anytime I find a little hope, I know it is not sustainable. Yes, I know I’m insignificant, you don’t have to keep pointing it out. I did not fall off the turnip truck, with no idea what life’s about. I know that there are no right answers, because it’s all just lies and deceit. But before I even start the race, seems that I have already been beat. If you gave a penny for my thoughts, that’s likely twice what they would be worth. I may be, ugly, poor, and broken, but I’ve always been that way since birth. All I can hope is when I’m buried somewhere beneath a simple grey stone. That the epitaph carved into it, “Here lies a man who didn’t die alone.”