Member Poem

In the dawn’s hazy light, I see them,
The weary souls trudging forth,
Faces etched with half-slept weariness,
Their spirits longing for escape.

In this bustling cityscape,
They gather at public transport stops,
A sea of bodies, disenchanted,
Each lost in his own solitude.

Empty shells, surviving but not truly living,
Bound by the shackles of routine,
They move through life like mechanical beings,
Heartbeats synchronized to the ticking clock.

Yet, what astounds me is not their mechanical existence,
Not the relentless march towards monotony,
But rather, the paradox they carry within.

For in their minds, they fear a prison’s chains,
The loss of freedom, the bars that confine,
Yet oblivious they remain to their own creation,
A self-imposed cage that accompanies them each day.

The cubicles they inhabit, the suits they don,
The invisible constraints they accept as norms,
A society’s expectations turned cage,
A gilded trap they willingly embrace.

And so, they trudge on, day after day,
Their dreams eclipsed, their passions suppressed,
Unaware of the power they possess,
To break free from the bars they carry within.

Oh, how I wish to awaken them,
To shake them from their slumber,
To ignite the fire that lies dormant,
And set their souls ablaze with purpose.

But alas, I am but an observer,
A witness to their silent struggle,
In this world where prisons are feared,
While cages are carried without question.

…