tired souls
Their tired souls awaken with the band of dawn that plays outside. The ring of their alarm clocks echoing inside their brains, startling their drained eyes, forcing them to open. Their body clings to the bed, but obligation pulls them out. “It’s too early”, they say as it brushes their teeth and dresses them. They eat the food, tasteless as they stare outside, trapped in the cages of their brains. They put the mask over their gray faces and head into the light. They walk in groups, isolated, they are living ghosts camouflaged with human skin. They are forced into the building by the wishes of society. They sit for hours as personality is sucked from their bodies in the hope that soon, their brains will not be theirs and the faces under the mask will be drained of more personality. They go back home and eat the tasteless food, trapped in the cages of their brain. They are forced to sit again for hours as the beady eyes of the life taker watch over their shoulders, forcing them to their homework. “It’s too late”, they say as obligation uses their hands to make letters and numbers on the white sheet of paper, covered in patterns of black, like their souls. They lay on the bed as their tired souls can finally rest again, only to repeat this endless cycle again tomorrow, like a clock, repeating the same cycle until they die.
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