When Day is Through

[ellajam]

When Day is Through
 
What do I do,
when the day is through?
I sit at home -alone-
the color drained from my hair;
having lived life so no one cares
whether I should live, or die!
Then why should I?     
So why should I?
 
 
–Erthona
 
©19

Hi, Dale, I've been thinking about this one (ut-oh ). My problem:
If this poem springs from observation, where's the compassion? Maybe his wife and kids burned up in a fire, maybe they had that bad cancer gene and he's buried them all, maybe he was the only one of a family of ten to survive WW2 and he never recovered. I can't assume he's alone because he's selfish.

If the poem springs from the narrator himself I don't believe his epiphany. My mom hasn't said it since she herself got old  , but I remember her saying "People don't change when they get old, they just get more so." I've found this to be true. If this man lived his whole life so self-centered that he never encouraged other people to be a part of it, I don't think he's suddenly unhappy with the result. He's probably used to it and still thinks others unworthy of his thought and attention.

I think that's why I can't accept the POV of the poem, it rings off to me.

Just saying.