THE PRELUDE CONTEST

Why does life feel like a test?

Constant toil with no rest,

Not a portion of the pain we request,

Leaving unbearable pain cutting through the chest,

Blessed is what they suggest,

Unstressed, they believe this is the only way to live best,

Masquerading, the agony goes unexpressed,

But deep inside we are completely finessed,

Alone in the journey of the quest,

Filled with doubt and personal unrest,

We hope it’s a pretest,

No giving up, we behest,

The feeling we don’t detest,

The attitude we divest,

The unexpressed becomes transgressed,

The giant and agony coalesced,

A minute to ingest the test,

Northwest, and Southwest, the assessed is suppressed,

With equivalent measures oppressed,

No peace, the soul is in a self-seeking contest.