A budding writer's collection

A Call For Life

The morning sun, the announcer of routine,
Yes, that repulsive, bright sun is here
And the countdown for purple skies begins.

Smiles that stretch like a grimace,
Eyes that are distant, covered with layers of ice,
Clothes that craft the appearance of sanity,
And then the inner cynic, who's busy rolling eyes.

Life, life, life,
The joys and the dreams,
But life, life, life,
An iPhone and a mansion,
Yes, that's life!

How much labor did you sell today?
Are you sure the buyer pays the value?
How much more labor can you sell today?
The buyer wants a good deal,
You're just an obsolete machine.

You see the ropes,
The insanely-long shawls,
Doors of the Narnia wardrobe, aren't they?

Others see the ropes,
Hanging from that ceiling fan,
And all they see is a sad sob story

How'd you tell people you yearn for life?
These people who surround themselves with lifeless objects?
How'd you look into your fellows' eyes,
And tell them happiness lies in this rope you see?

Your fellows, they keep dying every day,
They're tired and afraid,
They live in their dreams,
But come undone in the seams
Yet, they plaster sanity's mark to their face,
And sign up to die perpetually.