The Cycle, the Maze, and the Death of Dreams

I wake up

And the cycle starts again

The same movements

The same actions

Repeated ad nauseum

Without thought

On auto pilot

Like a programmed robot

Which is what I often

Feel I am

Trying to keep my humanity

In an umhuman, unhumane world

I am just a number

A flesh and blood machine

No feeling, no real spirituality

It is a world of false words

Hypocrisy and lies

In the disguise of truth

Honor and integrity

I am in a revolving door

Going around and around

Without ever getting anywhere

Every day is the same

A montonous maddening game

With no seeming way to win

You give all you have

Physically, mentally, spiritually

Until there is no more to give

And you are exhausted

In body, mind, and soul

You sometimes wonder

If you can continue to go on

And if you find in yourself

To always do so

There is still the lingering question

Why, what is the point

To never get ahead

To be always where you are

Right now in the same place

Lost and confused

Struggling eternally on

In a maze without a door

All alone, all on your own

And having the sickening feeling

This is the way

It will always be.


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