As the grand clock toned
my entrance home
was coupled with an aura so sore.
When I emptied my satchel,
up from my work's gravel
came my folder upon the bedroom floor.
Once a vivacious soul one may favor;
a centerpiece of my workplace to hold such papers
but his image did dictate of how his current state seemed poor.
As he wallowed to his knees,
his creaky voice presented speech
and spouted the confessions of his distresses upon the bedroom floor.
"These distresses I confess" he would contest,
must be evident to you before my rest
so you may be haunted by my daunting life's lore.
My decaying texture deters beauty's touches,
my skin is laden with staining lunches,
and I only picture the pleasure you must procure from my papyrus gore.
The tears I expel from every tear,
the lack of repair, the papers' weight I bear,
all compile together to form the heart of which you have whored.
I presented my love and service,
but such digression was not worth it,"
and his corpse collapsed its form upon the grains of the bedroom floor.
My mind was set afire,
poised and puzzled by what transpired,
and what had just passed seemed to grasp and compress my core.
I was forced to reminisce
and ponder how my life had come to this:
breaking and disintegrating upon this bedroom floor.