Poem: Herculean First World Problem

I originally wrote this poem when I was just home from getting my MA in Ireland and broke.

maybe it was Destiny or 
Fate which made
me addicted to lattes
& did not find me work
to buy them. and yet,
I do.
O! My love! My pain!

sit in Wonder.
Have the forces
of Chance been lazy,
or kind? Is this what smithed
metal feels?
Who am I
to Prometheus?
Who am I
to Sisyphus?
Who am I
to Reality Winner?
Perhaps I was not chosen to
suffer so because I fear
losing caffeine
as much as
Freedom

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