White-collar blues
Today is blue.
How true
A simple phrase of code
To bode the state
Of calling figures for the day.
Today is blue.
They knew
By some grand and cryptic plan
The state of play,
The rate at which the hue subdues
To wash the world
To flat line grey.
Today is blue.
Too few
Are left within the glass,
Where pigments fall
Like grains of sand
Marking life gone past.
Today is blue.
We do
The endless grind of souls
To find a scrap of food for life.
No,
Not life,
For pain and strife
Drawn out like ingrown hairs
When no one cares
Is not life,
Just existence.
Just merely being there.
Today is blue.
Our due
Is slowly pulled away.
A carrot on a string
So bright
We do not see the colours fade
So that everywhere our gaze is not
Will crumble into haze.
Today is blue.
We knew.
The ink of contract signed and sealed.
The blue of hypothermic cold,
Of bruises new
Of pains of old.
We were told.
We all were told,
But none of us would listen.
Today is blue
No comments:
Post a Comment