If your work’s dreary, then I can guarantee
that the moment you resign, then by then you’ve done your time.
A repayment to the state – your real liberty’s too late.
So you’ve worked for all your life, by some sleight you have survived.
A real victory, through which only you can see
the reward is just a fake – it’s three decades far too late.
Of your life you have been robbed, and soon your heart will stop
your breathing lost its breath, and your only solace death.
So what have you left behind when you’ve watched it from rewind?
Some pay stubs, unpaid debt, and some newly homeless pets
a tombstone with your name, and an ID with the same,
to not be used again, proof of what you’ve never been.
Boring life of drudgery! an unpassionate play without
any characters you ever truly wanted to be about!
It’s called anomie.
You’re a character adrift in society,
with no idea what you want, or are supposed to be.
Sociologists might blame it all on industry,
but it’s clear that we’re all lost, basically.
So now, knowing that you’re lost, you begin to thaw the frost,
which has frozen up your ribcage to your heart.
You are free now and can start – break your inhibitors apart
– to grab the wheel, and take control of your own destiny.
And sure, you’ll die someday –
hope when that time comes you can say
that you gave to every moment all you could.
Each opportunity fulfilled, through the advancement of free will,
and that you took from every moment what you should.
So when you see the curtain close, and your spirit surely knows
that your teardrop’s not of tragedy, but joy.
You will stand for the ovation, overwhelmed with true elation,
at the beauty that your life story deployed.
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