Thursday, January 12, 2012

Moloch

There is no hallucination,
To guide the imagery,
That places the poor working stiff,
Firmly in the periphery,

Of what he wants to be,
There's no snappy, drugged 'because',
To accentuate the failure that he feels,
When he reports to his boss,

Then returns home to the prison,
That keeps him where he is,
And afraid of following his instinct,
To his bliss.

Oh, it will be alright,
And worth it,
When he realizes life's true meaning,
After a lifetime of disappointment.

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