Bored

We are told what we are
from the start.
Yellow light hitting new born
pupils like the first struck match
of a fresh pack.
Entangled in the energies
of those around us,
falling from the sky
until our parachutes get
caught up in the trees.
We are bored into lives
we don’t want.
Forced like locks with wrong
keys, all the lights are on,
but no one tries to stop it.
All that matters is living on,
all that matters is the fresh water
spring you came across, running
frantically through the foliage,
and how you swear
that it can only belong to you.
We can’t get over being told what to do,
obsessed with the reward systems spawned
from ancient tyrannies now just crumbled
statues in the desert.
The sun goes down another day,
and still we watch tomorrow
like a black cloud in the distant sky
afraid to change but not to die.

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