Why should I feel convivial
that I am deeply trivial?
The only largeness to me traced
is likely my expanding waist.
Otherwise, my life is shrinking;
consequence is wishful thinking.
My days are marked by details small;
I'm in a microscopic thrall.
Should ramen noodles be my lunch?
(God doesn't care, I have a hunch.)
Small things may lead to great in some;
but me, I guess I'll stay a crumb.
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