Tired...

The buzzing always woke me up,

It was time again to face the day.

I left my cradle of soothing peace

Clueless… as to what I’d do or say…

Routine motions carried me on,

The tasks that require no reflection…

Mechanically, I bathed and shaved,

Dressed and left for my destination.

I reached the place I had set out for,

Its windows being spattered by rain…

I took up my station at my regular place,

Waiting for the day to begin… again…

Menial labor is what earned me my living,

My daily tasks required no thought.

After a few days spent at these desk jobs,

My individuality was valued at naught.

As the grey clouds rolled past the troubled sky,

Gently showering the ground below,

I felt my soul begin to softly weep,

Tired of its cage… of its dreams made hollow…

This was no new occurrence for me,

Nor I guess for any of my peers,

We all knew what pitiful lives we led,

We had long learned to wipe out tears.

But had we not all been so full of zest?

Just a few short years ago…

Life, we thought would be our oyster…

And we had raced eagerly for its grand show.

Each of us had done our best, I am sure

No one had sat around idle.

Misguided, we had then been thinking…

That this would be our last real hurdle

We had struggled to get into our dream jobs,

Into that towering office, with the waving flag

Where rumor had it, a fortune was paid,

To have a desk there… and a bronze name tag…

Now we worked in that glamorous prison,

Within a huge marvel of glass and steel

We were all paid a fat sum of money and yet

It couldn’t change what our hearts made us feel.

In the office and while in our jobs,

We were not entirely people anymore,

Technically designated “assets”, we were

Statistics for our bosses to keep score…

With the death of our uniqueness,

We were mere automatons now.

Unfeeling, uncaring, inattentive of the world,

We performed our tasks God knows how…

As my shift ended for the day,

I joined my co-workers as they drifted down.

Storey by storey, the lift descended,

Until soon we arrived at the late night ghost town.

I took one of the car pools that would drop me home,

And gazed out of the frosted pane,

My high paying job had robbed me of free time…

I felt the irony seep through my veins.

I reached home, and performed my chores.

My actions once again becoming automatic…

I had no energy, nor wish anymore.

Of departing from the usual monochromatic

Was I happy, you ask me?

Think whatever you want of that.

Personally, I don’t care what you deduce,

My desire to care had long fallen flat.