Droped I am.

They all are grey.

Work and workers, all they know.

In my world, we don’t yell, get angry or have deadlines.

It’s just always good and every days a treat.

It’s strange to me it seems they’re lost

Perhaps they’ve lost what they’ve been dreaming of

They don’t know they live a lie, trying to make sense of what is false, trying to make it work living “life” in borrowed time.