The Rat Race
A poem about the crushing hold reality has over us, inspired by a drowsy morning.
Clouds of ash, sun of gold
New experiences through dreams of old,
An endless expanse of horror and wonder
While dark desire in your heart does sunder.
From birth unto grave you toil and labor
Till pleasure itself shall do ye a favor,
You edge into sins, cling onto guilts
As the growth in your soul, somberly wilts.
In tired morn you stay and sleep
Hiding from the day that beholds too steep,
Yet compelled by duty you are set to slave
At meaningless works your superiors gave.
Day in day out these routines you repeat
So when nightfall comes, you are able to eat.
Until the crushing realization hits your face
That you are in fact, a rat in the race.
This poem was thought up during a sleep deprived morning where I reflected upon life as a modern day man and how we have become slaves to the larger powers that inhabit the world we so dearly love and hate.
Thank you for taking the time to read this poem and as always, stay safe and stay humble.
Cheers.
