They’ll tell you that you have
‘potential’,
That with the proper degrees and
the right resume
You could get it all, make every
dream real,
Go up on the stage of life and
have your say.
But they’ll only ever whisper in
parenthesis,
That this fairy tale had its
genesis
In the blackened ashtrays of
airless office rooms
Broken bodies lost in the factory
fumes.
They’ll say you can be anything
you want,
Just so long as your plans don’t
interrupt
The 9-hour shift and 3-hour
commute
Plus any housekeeping that you
can contribute.
They don’t call it a hustle
‘cause it’s easy,
Life ain’t supposed to be breezy
You pay your dues and you bear
your cross
And if all else fails, just
please the boss.
They’ll say it’s not sleep
deprivation,
If at the end of the year you
land that promotion.
Creativity is a small price to
pay
For petrol, a roof, and a
biennial raise.
Cost of living adjustments and
dearness allowances
A trade-off for the rose-tinged
contact lenses
Of limitless potential and
classroom lectures
Beige colored dreams and dead-end
conjectures.
It wouldn’t be a ‘job’ if you
liked it,
And the rent still needs to be
paid.
Power and Wi-Fi aren’t bought
with ‘potential’, baby
For those, you need a higher pay grade.
No comments:
Post a Comment