The Quiet Suffocation

I have just enough hope and just enough fear to keep me tied to this life,
but not enough to make it worth my while.

I can’t breathe.
Not just words people remember,
not just the dying words tied to George Floyd,
but the breath of millions, struggling to survive,
struggling to survive another day.

Wars and bombings. Rising costs. Stagnant wages.
Working until you’re burnt out, losing value,
then replaced by the next poor schmuck
trying to do the same.

Death draws closer and closer,
while medicine extends life longer and longer.
For what, just to become another object?

Despite being in the digital age,
where technology is supposed to make our lives better,
better for who?

The more automated our lives become,
the more they expect out of us.

The soul is lost while the body begins to decay.
A mindless shell, trying to make it through the day.
A mindless cog, used until there’s nothing left.

Not a well-built machine,
but a disposable tool.

And one day, not even born, just grown,
just to allow the “Masters” to keep playing,
cloning themselves, extending themselves,
so they can stave off for another day.

Keep my voice.
Let everything else fade away.