The Human Condition

Cainin Lawson ’18

The cold subsiding for a moment.

Escaping from routine,

Telling me to never own it.

Unable to explain,

And never to comprehend,

The routine straining, draining,

Coming to an end.

Apologies whispered,

A phone call on mute.

The slumbering receiver

Couldn’t stop the relapse route.

Maybe we should stop learning lessons.

Sleep. Awake. Repeat. Repeat.

Leaving the second story,

A window to a new,

Things as such go unseen

To people who live like you.


The horse was walking,

Though not yet awake,

The duo vanished on the road,

Silent in escape.


The ride started,

Dark, cold, alone.

All signs in life were pointing him home.

He knew he couldn’t stay,

He knew the things breaking him wouldn’t change.

He knew this must be done,

He knew people like him never won.


He tried to find a place to hide,

Hours pass on a freeway ride.

The thought never occurred with the radio on,

What people would do while he was gone.

He found civilization, and he lay in his bravado,

“Do what feels right” was becoming his new motto.


At home, a woman stirred,

She figured the boy just couldn’t be heard.

She went on, no problem at all,

Until, from her other, she received a call.


Panic ensues, the city cries,

The boy asleep, creating new lies.


When awoken, love brought him home.

He had nowhere else for his body to roam.

With tears in his eyes, bleeding heart in his chest,

He ended the search, gave up on his quest.

Emotions were mixed when that boy accepted the known,

Everyone was just relieved that he was home.

Questioned by aggressive authority,

Treating him with respect a minority,

Taken to sit in a ward.


Stripped of his clothes, and of his personality,

The boy accepted the cruel reality.

He gave up trying to pretend,

The life he used to live was coming to an end.

The truth was revealed,

Professionals were shocked.

The boy was calm and casual,

In his daze, he couldn’t help but think,

“Maybe it would have been better if I wrote with ink.”
Professional words had nothing to say,

Back to reality, they sent him away.

The story ends much like you’d think,

The boy finds power coming back from the brink.

Forced to live the life of the rest,

The real “Hero’s Journey” destroys the best.

“What is the purpose,” we’ve all asked ourselves,

“Why do we find ourselves where our demons dwell?”

But perhaps that’s not the right question.

Maybe we should stop learning lessons.

Sleep. Awake. Repeat. Repeat.

It’ll never work. Repeat.

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