What goes through the mind of a working class man, frustrated with his mundane existence? |
The night beckons, and like one hypnotized I go stumbling towards its doors; The darkness somehow seems comforting, The lure of oblivion too irresistible to ignore. Do I go to the doors of death? Well, no one can tell what future has in store; For all I know, I go to my room, Tired after a day of hardships galore. All dreams have been swept away long back, It’s only work now that I have in my mind; The daily grind juices out all feelings, Even a smile is now hard to find. All day, the competition snaps at my back, Frantic do I run to keep them at bay; Clutching on to all the options I find, To keep the opportunities from fading away. A rare praise brings a momentary sunshine, Which immediately is clouded over; For the expectations rise to insurmountable heights, Fail to meet them, and your days are over. The world seems a blur now, and with unseeing eyes, I go forth to my personal war zone each day; Planning all the while what all to do, Where all to go, what all to say. Sometimes I feel, was I born for this? No answer does my heart provide, For in truth, there’s no other goal No other place where it would abide. So I return at the end of the day, With my tired limbs and eyes aching in pain; And I throw myself into the arms of darkness To be able to face tomorrow again. |