The Commute.

Pausing in the maelstrom force,
Pacing while thinking of the course
Where feet stomp and arms swing,
Passing by a kingdom of things.

People waltzing to report,
People facing last resort
Wild natures are constricted,
Purchases are unrestricted.

Noise drills the air here,
Purpose given false cheer
Wallowing is compartmentalized,
Following is departmentalized.

Phones shine in separate hands,
Faces work to look most bland
Moving always towards a new goal,
Each step losing pieces from our whole.

Categories: Nonfiction, PoetryTags: , , , , , , , , ,

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