Petri Dish

Someone once made a toast
That everything you want
Should be the least you get
We raised glasses high
Voiced hearty agreement
Then promptly went home
On with our own lives of
Regret, disappointment
Unfulfilled dreams
Wondering why others should be blessed with high hopes
And other lies
When here, within our suburban Petri dishes
We can't get past fallen idols and
Today's meal ticket
The toast should be inverted
That we're guaranteed nothing
That we're pushed to the limit
To breaking
To losing it on a train
In public
Dropping eggs and barking for others to clean them up
Then going home to coagulated desperation
Hoping only for slivers of song
Which would be nice

© Poem Fix 2013 

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