The Daily Grind
Nothing but horses on a merry go round,
painted faces, costumes, and lies based on facts.
We’re all wearing masks
that disguise us from ourselves more than others,
making it so hard for anyone to really know at all
what they want or need until they lose it.
There’s no typical or expected
or proper or appropriate;
only expectations of propriety
and the viability of options,
hiding tears behind smiles,
running up hills and down aisles.
It’s padded chairs and seat belts
and artificial light
and plans never completed,
love never returned,
and electric blankets and solitary music
and pictures of angels
and books about lovers.
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