Expectation destroys everything All of you should know that After all, I am a human being Not an AI-programmed robot How much can I manage at a time? You expect me to work And aggressively at that Handling five mandates at a time When you very well know That even three is not a walk in the park You expect me to exercise When I barely have time to complete my work And on top of that You expect me to eat You expect me to drink And you expect me to sleep Like every other human being Do you even hear yourself?
Expectation destroys everything What do you get When you expect too much from people? Disappointment Do you really want that? I repeat, I am a human being Not an AI-programmed robot Put yourself in my shoes And see if you can achieve What you're expecting me to achieve Of course, you love to say That I need to be flexible Well, I certainly do my best But you need to know That, sometimes, even your best is not enough When you're up against time Because time is not flexible And will never be
Expectation destroys everything I hope you will realise this some day Because, if you don't Then it will be your loss, not mine Until then, here's to expecting And getting disappointed
It’s a way paved and trodden long ago by steps as disillusioned as mine, and as blinded by the milky fog filling lungs like frigid smoke.
When we’re lost, we believe it’s the swollen feet and crooked spine and chattering teeth and the burning mind that are our ailments.
But time is our disease, ill spent and driven off and engulfed while expecting something different, something more, for promises not made.
All the while death sings its ageless lullaby louder and louder until the only promise ever kept thrusts the dusty sting.
But I won’t learn. I refuse to pay attention.
Once again, I follow The Old Road.
- by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
I often write my poems while listening to songs on repeat, and the two I had playing during this one was "Oh Death" by Noah Gundersen and "In The Woods Somewhere" by Hozier. Check them out!
And I tagged this poem as time management because, as great as actual practicable techniques and tactics and strategies are, sometimes you just need to be inspired to stop hanging on in quiet desperation (despite it being the English way).