Poems

You’re just a number, a voice on the line, They don’t give a damn if you’re losing time. Scripts and protocols, no human touch, It’s all just a hustle, but it hurts too much.

You’re on hold for hours, just to hear that beep, Your patience frays, you’re in too deep. Talking to robots that don’t understand, Welcome to customer service, the no-man’s land.

You’re reading nietzsche, quoting freud, You’re reading Nietzsche, quoting Freud, But the real world’s something you avoid. In your mind, you’re a sage, a thinker so grand, But your wisdom’s as deep as that foam in your hand.

Your wine’s not aged, your caviar’s stale, The chef’s burnt the steak, oh, what a fail. Butler’s on vacation, how will you cope? With all this hardship, you’re at the end of your rope.

Your yacht’s too small, your jet’s out of gas, Life’s so tough when you’re living first class. You’re drowning in money, but it’s never enough, Oh, the tragedy of all this rich people stuff.

Your neighbor’s got a new car, damn it’s shiny, And your lawn’s looking less like a carpet, more like a piney. You’re scrolling through catalogs, plotting your next buy, But deep down, you know it’s just another lie.

Your phone’s at 1%, the charger’s broke, You’re running on fumes, it’s all a joke. The boss is calling, the kids need fed, But you’re drowning in life’s little dread.

You think you’re profound, you think you’re wise, But the real world’s passing, and it’s no surprise. You’re stuck in a loop, a caffeinated trance, But real life’s waiting, if you’d just take a chance.

Your laptop’s dead, your phone won’t sync, You’re on the verge of an existential kink. Tech support’s your last desperate call, But they’re the ones driving you up the wall.

We ran from every hit, every tear, A childhood built on shattered fear. The glass we walked on never healed, A life where love was never real. Echoes of Rust”