An erudite prodigy, hatted, waving his prize
Five years of toil now seems a worthy price
Soon frustration is served as cold as ice
Alas in anger he tears at his hair as if for lice
Dreams shattered, disillusioned yearns falter 
Shoe heels beg to be tortured no further
Myriad prayer abode so complex they don't suffice
The Heavens only help those with an office 
Despondent, my goodman resigns to fate
Forlorn attempts can't help restore his faith.


Mind gloats in the slough of despair
Trauma of the psyche soothing words can't repair
Frantic efforts are made to erase ghost of jobs past 
Being the devil's workshop as long as can last 
Idling and tapping away on some game pad
Mentally skewed and psychoemotionally tampered
Arthur Guinness' dark empty vessels left to sprawl
The juicer is juiced up having a comic scowl
Mama's pot dries up in involuntary service to the glutton
His lazy bones chowed Mama's mutton.

Didn't get this post at all...@Op, is it a story or what??

Nice poem.