My life,
These times,
The epitome,
Of a downwards trajectory.

My existence is but a career,
I wish to resign,
So consider,
Every crooked letter of this poem
As one step closer to my resignation letter.

Recognise this note,
As my termination,
Of a short life,
Of poorly attempted dedication.

Working this life,
For minimum wage,
With out a break,
Except a broken sense of direction,
Displayed.

Life is merely a career
And I wish to swerve,
I wish to veer,
I wish for my torn family,
To not shed a tear.