My printer hates my guts

If you ever want to be jolted back to life’s reality, just write your shit down and try to print it or upload it.

Better yet, attempt to forward it to Fedex, so they can print it nice and big.

The process alone will knock you down a notch or two,
and remind you that your shit is meaningless to you and me.

I am tempted to leave the cursor blinking, just so you know how serious this experience is.

How fucken deep I’m in trenches, 
and my printer has absolutely zero sympathy.

But I’m so important!

I need to speak my truth. I think I’ve solved life’s mystery.

I am crying for humanity, I am woman, hear me roar!

….but still this heartless printer mocks me,
.....and prevents the printing of my soul.

All the heartfelt tears while typing, they are drying as I go.

The existential truths deserved by masses ,
will no longer make a difference.......

They will die as whimpers and as echoes,
that only my printer and I will know.

So my apologies for not enlightening. 
It is the error function that persists.

As the sun comes up and I’m done fighting: 

printer 1 so the ego must desist.