pithy pity ditty

what a city,
one's self-pity
to wallow in...
its welcome signs
health undermines,
sans medicine.

access is quick
egress, a trick
with one street out...
those there will say
no friends defray
its fiddler's flout.

swill twenty beers,
when the head clears
dank nights repeat...
feed fat and fear
won't that make clear
your self-deceit??

themselves, souls shape,
thinking escape
from pain is wise...
those who endure
oft are the cure,
to death's surprise.

get to your feet
stand up, compete,
you've got the stuff...
effort alone,
gets joy's seeds sown
when times are tough!


--H. Arlequin