This was originally intended to be lyrics for a song. There is, in fact, musical accompaniment already written/demoed. Nonetheless, I think this stands pretty well as a poem as well.
Here ya go..."King Of The Quicksand Hill."
Further failure confirming
I'm destined to faulter.
Glory is always out of reach,
So why even bother?
Am I a glutton for punishment
Or just doomed to ignorance?
Sisyphus, you wrote the book.
Can the cycle
Ever be broken?
As the clock strikes "Too Late",
I'm floored with the realization
That I'll never be anybody's hero.
Is all my effort, all my sacrifice,
Striving to be
The king of a quicksand hill?
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