The Riser's Lament

Everywhere you look and see,
Spy shades of mediocrity,
A dawning crimson shade of red,
Clears the riser from the bed,
And on with the ritual, perpetual ambition,
Darkness clears the soul from God,
And brings it forwardly,
Presenting an unknowing child and his desperate dream,
Itching to escape the rigid uniformity of, his life,
Goaded by the carrot put ahead,
That is never reached,
Never obtained,
Unassailed,
Impossible,
But still the riser itches to quench his thirst at the well of desire,
Never stopping to drink at the pools along the way,
Never satisfied with what he has,
He marches,
Ever onward,
Genuinely driven by what he sees as his only escape,
Reality offers nothing for him,
Lost,
Alone,
Again,
Always lost,
Alone,
Missing,
This,
Lost alone,
Depressed by repression,
Saddened by the end of time,
The spiral is set to begin again,
The riser finds no comfort in what he has,
For what he has,
Is nothing.

Map of Human Migration