USELESS

I have washed my hands off life.
Every cloud has a silver lining they say.
After every dark night there rises a day.
So I tried molding my life into an appropriate form.
To shape it into a commendable norm.
I twisted it and turned it and twined and bent.
I curved and bowed and warped and flexed.
I labored and toiled and drudged and sweat.
I huffed and puffed and cursed and regret.
But all that proved to be quite inept.
Because like an elastic band with a mean disposition.
My life always snapped right back to it’s useless condition.