Expendable

It's like we're expendable.

Do this,

do that.

Abide by this,

abide by that.

I just want to be free.

Let me be free.

Chained to a desk,

eyes glued to the white light,

as I sing songs of mercy and fright.

Through the day and night.

All within four walls

of peacock blue,

where only my mind can explore the wonderful depths they walk through.

But no one cares.

Humans were created to adapt.

Molded clay by the hands of he who tricks, 

and sets fires in the angers of our hearts.

Mighty eagle feeding off of our livers,

everyday.

Regain strength in the night,

must up with might, 

to be feasted on by morning light. 

We try.

We fight.

But the eagle returns.

Waiting for Hercules,

but he never comes. 

Stuck in a mentally tormented rut.

We try.

We fight.

But it always ends up all take and no give.

I wish to live,

not just exist.

Yet I find myself chained to a desk,

eyes glued to the white light,

in a constant fright,

hoping for a better tomorrow.

Maybe I need to stop hoping.

Maybe the solution is

Doing.