NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Four

Condensed Wisdom
"In Bed" optional

Your work does not
appreciate you.
Pay them.

Lovers burn you
from their beds.
Thank them.

Your enemies
have left you for dead.
Thank them.

There is something
you still want.
Unwant it.

The universe
is slowly killing you.
Let it.