Poem : Workplace Machine

The morning sun bends and twists in the reflection of the city’s sky-glass
Windows of sparkle
Held by buildings scraping the sky
So high for the looking
For the lifeless sheep to gaze upon in the distance
As they crawl their way into work
Their faces are long and lost of expression
For they’re waiting for the timecard to be punched
For the coffee to drip from the dripper
The mouse to be rolled for the clicking
For the tick tock of the wall clock
And the quick glance to see it is only moving slower
And the Boss
The Shepherd
Is constantly frowning
His smile was lost with the collapses of the market
The fall of his 401k something-another
His morning drives at the range
Are now nothing but a memory
A thought
Fledgling at that
So the sheep have good cause to worry
To sweat
To cry secretly in the restroom
Then wash up like all is okay
But before all of this worry in the workplace
Bumper to bumper is the way that must be traveled
And the grind, keeps on grinding
For the sheep are fed into the machine
Diving in, one soul at a time