Individual poems
White picket fences and manicured lawns, They said it was paradise, but its all cons. Neighbors that smile, but talk behind, This suburban life, its a bind.
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Theyve got a yoga class in the break room, And a fruit basket to fight off the gloom. But theyre squeezing your soul from nine to five, And call it wellness, just to keep you alive.
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Theyve got the latest gadgets, youve got envys stare, But your happiness aint in their designer ware. Youre sinking in debt just to stay on trend, But its a losing race, thatll never end.
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To the future me, whos still gripping that brush, This is for you, from a place of trembling hands and unsteady lines. Can you see me now? Sitting in this dim-lit room, Hunched over canvases that echo with my doubts? I’ve painted fear into every stroke, Each color mixed with a shade of uncertainty. What
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They say hard work will get you far, But its all just who you know, not who you are. So Ill nod, and Ill smile, and play the part, But its just a hustle, no soul, no heart.
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They talk about balance, about finding peace, But your workloads doubled, it never will cease. Take a deep breath, count to ten, But its just a trick to keep you zen.
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Theres rust in my bones, i can feel it creep, Theres rust in my bones, I can feel it creep, The weight of the years, theyve stolen my sleep. Ive weathered the storms, but Im falling apart, The rust settles deep, it corrodes my heart.
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They dangle the carrot, make you chase, But its just a trick, an endless race. The finish lines a mirage, a cruel jest, In this office hell, theres no rest.
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The years have passed, but still, i feel the rust, The years have passed, but still, I feel the rust, The weight of everything we tried to hold. I look into the mirror and see dust, The wreckage of a heart thats grown too cold. And though I fight, I never can explain How time
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The years have rusted all that i became, The years have rusted all that I became, A childhood built on lies and broken stone. I trace the echoes, searching for a name, A voice thats lost in time, forever grown. I wonder if the rust has left a stain, A mark upon the life I
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