Poem-A-Day: Day 236

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

I’m torn somewhere between
being a philanthropist and a misanthropist.
I try to convince myself
that the terms are made up,
fictitious amalgamations of my own mind,
manifested by my own self pity at being one,
and my own malign indifference at the other.
I thought that aspirin,
or some other pill shaped format would help
alleviate the pressure ever building in the brain,
slow it, before it bursts,
showering the world in apathetic letters,
words, and sentences
that border the bizarre and contrite.
It’s no mystery,
that the rain I see
has a particular aftertaste of champagne,
proving destruction
one

drop

at

a

time.