Seventy Four Poem by Jared Bukowski

I asked my dog,
Why is it that you cry?
What responsibility do you have?
All you do is eat and sleep and die.
He looked at me laughing,
You think you do much more?
All you do is eat and sleep,
And die at seventy four.
No, no, I shook my head,
My life is full of thrill!
Of course I cannot enjoy it,
Without my morning pill.
He laughed again,
You've got it all wrong!
You're lifeless in society,
And you have been for far too long.
You plan for the future,
In this two story tomb,
And you go to work,
To suffer interminable doom.
Your marriage isn't special,
Nor is your place.
Say that you're important,
And keep a straight face.
Your life has been wasted,
Dependent on a clock,
Which one day will tick,
to find you under a rock.

And so I realized,
That all I do is eat and sleep,
And die at seventy four.