Clockwork Empire

 

Gases propulse from industrial pipelines.
Vapors, contaminants, environmental hazards;
Through a proper, justified blueprint
Filthen the youth: your very breath.

 

Mundane clanking throughout the midnight's moonlight,
Seeking assistance, finding none.
Clutch it! Oh, brave soul!
To wander, nothing more, for eternity in that pit.

 

A wastelandish utopia:
Light of day touched it once.
Sprung forth the beginning of its riches.
Hard to tell whether be silver, or gray,
Without sunlight, guess it's clear.
So what's it matter, anyway?

 

Apathetic questions, rhetorical rhythms,
The fabric yet to be spun.
Mindless instruments, eyes glued to the hand,
Wondering when the shift will be done.

 

Commute, arrive, settle down, waste the time.
Applying for promotion, re-writing the same lines.
Itch at the migraine, comply with demands,
Pack your papers, go home, and then do it all again.

 

Worship the screen while morale is replenished.
Remember to forget about brushing teeth,
Guess it's time for bed.
Doze, awaken,
Then wonder if it's over yet.

 

Repeat.