I think that expectation has
too many strings attached.
Which, soon enough will choke
the living will of blood and kin
consign it to the heap of incidentals,
right at the bottom of the barrel
where righteousness and pride
are flattened by the mass of indignation.
Looking inside one sees
a deadly silence, smells a rat,
perhaps it was the prototype,
come back to haunt and make
the point which should have been
perceived with one small bow.
I close the lid too tightly,
then I turn away and go.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/late-expectations/