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Kana Kozlowski Poem
Skyscrapers, our societies pyramids
Built with a work force in need of these jobs
But these meaningless buildings are made for the boss,
Where the only way to lift your spirits is to take the elevator
To your top floor universe,
Amazing the 10 feet distance between us
Determines that we are the losers
And our worlds should all orbit around you
This constant cubicle blues,
Yet you sit there with your own good news,
Your going golfing today!
Oh, wait, that’s everyday
And we’re tired of being the calls you put on hold
Because some how our happiness was sold
For your new vacation home
But we’re done with listening to your dial tone
We know it’s about the survival
But we are the ones in need of revival since you don’t help anybody
Your desk is our captor and we are societies slaves
Why do you always choose the money
When it’s printed in the millions
But each person is 1 in 7 billion
And your children have no one,
You started an epidemic of sad teens
With an incurable disease called loneliness
So why don’t you swivel in your chair and turn the other cheek
Cause we’re already too far-gone to keep up this life of lies
This will be our demise
How are we supposed to fill shoes full of infamy
And rubber soles that are empty
Secrets, that you never told until you were proud enough
We don’t want to wear this straight jacket you call a suit and tie
Because all it’s meant to do is clip our wings so we can’t fly
How can you sit at your breakfasts with blood on your fingertips
When that meal could’ve saved three families
It’s clear to me you don’t need me
Your love is only a formality
Which is almost comforting at least you’re still capable of niceties
But I’ve learned the true distance between our floors
Should be measured in galaxies
Copyright © Kana Kozlowski | Year Posted 2016
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