a life of insignificance
a life of deadlines
and dead eyes
peering into their phone
waiting for some form of good news
a release of endorphins
that’ll curl their lip upwards
in an attempt to prove to others
that they are in fact human.
Their heads constantly facing downwards
as if waiting for the ground to swallow
them up.
Yet the ground stays still
like it always did
and seems to do these days
the most stable thing in their lives
seems to be inanimate
grey
and trodden on
yet they constantly shake around
in thought
hoping they land on one
happy idea
to carry them back home
from this artifically lit
underground train track.