Resignation runs faster than hope

The night is dark and grey no moon, no stars clouds as shrouds. There was a fire here once spewing energy and light now it coughs ash and smoke or perhaps it just dribbles it. There's a lone figure, which i think is me or it could be all of us, everyone. Just this, nothing else around. The figure hunches over, mumbling nonsense Strikes a match, lights a firework A spray of light; of energy The rocket climbs, leaving it's orgasm in its wake A comet's tail A blazing symphony Then it's gone. No explosion No colour No big bang No life. The figure tries again. The rocket lights the way! Then disappears swallowed by the grey. And again it, or i, tries The comet's orgasm lights his face hope fills his wide eyes it fails. It dies. His wide eyes shadowed with grey. And again it, or i, tries The comet's orgasm lights his face Anger fills his eyes It dies. No more rockets left. So he tries to sleep. He'll have to work tomorrow. To buy more. Up at 6, finish at 4. Night doesn't come, it's always night when you sleep in the day. But night is here. The fire still dribbles smoke and ash he has more rockets Frustration fills his eyes. They fail. Up at 6 again, to earn cash for more. Up at 6 leave at 4. Desperation fills his eyes. They fail. He returns the next night. He's worked again. Sweat covers his uniform. He strikes a match and lights a cigarette. Tears fill his eyes. Failure. He cries. His wailing louder than the rocket. He throws himself on the old fire. There aren't flames. No merciful release. No untimely death. Just darkness. And work. And failure. He strikes a match. Lights a cigarette. He's running out. He'll have to go to work tomorrow