A common theme in stories is that the physical wealth of the world does not make one happy and that, in fact, they still feel empty on the inside. Often, such a theme targets the wealthy or upper class as they hold the stigma of not relating to the lower-class people who have to work hard to survive in an unforgiving world.

However, it is worth noting that in the developed world, the same feeling of despair, despite having so many physical rewards, can extend to the middle class. Most Americans live in a fairly comfortable environment, especially in comparison to their ancestors. With the immediate concern for survival not being there for much of the middle class, it may breed the question of what is worth living for in life.

Many, as a result, struggle to find meaning or even worth in a “safe” life. Hopefully, college students will find that this is a relatable struggle they face in their day to day life and not just because they are “privileged.”

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Well, I have got everything
Ample golds, jewels, and myrrh thing
Women flock in straight rows kissing me
Servants scrub the ground I trot and see
All the land shall sing my renowned name
From the oyster this wretched world came.

I have reached my stride triumphantly
Fought against my enemies gallantly
Put to death my opponents
Raised to light my faithful friends
I ensured my immortality by word
Just wish I could fly off the ledge like a bird.

Yet I remain hungry; need to see a new verse.
I reached the corners of this spatial universe
But then I wonder, “what else is out there?”
Something divine and taboo come in pairs
Far beyond the physical laws’ constraint
Where gravity cannot enforce death’s train.

Then my heart races as it sees wools
Beats like a drunk that hopelessly drools
Drinks just one bottle and whiffs a strong dose
“There’s more,” while stumbling a sickly pose
Begging how to rip through externality
Because one beer just can’t give totality.

But the enchanted times intoxicate
Mosquitoes are my fortunes and glories
All the toys invigorate my crass behavior
While the world lacks a question for their Lord and Savior
As the insect inserts its length to feed
The best delights leave the soul a damn leech.

Valiant wins, what pure luck
Sharp chortle strikes like a truck
Actions cease meaning, reasons disintegrate worth
To claim much without such individual birth
My heart is sweating acidic tears
As the colorless space of draws near.