I am looking at them skyscrapers,
Grayish and grim.
Headstones of us working class,
In and out of the buildings every single day,
Selling ourselves dead to earn a living.
Milling the bus stops and train stations,
Pushing and pulling.
Walking the literal distance, even running,
Clutching for more money and power,
But never really live for the day.
Most people are taught that life is supposed to be that way,
and then they teach their children the exact same thing.
I am right in the middle of these withering people.
Puffy eyes, tired mouths,
Fighting for a spot in an overloaded bus.
Are we no more than just pawns of the capitalists?
Too replaceable, too small to matter.
Fooled by the idea of liberty and democracy.
Played by the doctrines of religion and spiritualism.
Life has got to be more than this.
Life has got to offer something more than this.
Sleepless nights and restless days at work.
At some point it has to mean something, doesn’t it?
Or perhaps I am just a dreamer amongst the dead.
Scared that I will become one of them.
Scared that life really is just these dull skycrapers towering the smoky sky.
I wonder if I am the only one questioning this way of life.
I could almost hear my inner child screaming for help,
only to be silenced by cold unforgiving rationales.
15 MARCH 2016, 05:51 pm