Same Thing Poem by Yohan Confectioner

wake up.
get into auto
watch a hundred hungry faces flash by.
get off
walk to office.

sit down.
hello and smile
at each face
you loath to see every morning.
pretend your inbox is full,
scan through as if you're looking
for a needle in a haystack.

discuss how much
and how soon,
nod at everything
you disapprove off,
pick up a paper
and search for a story
as miserable as yours,
empathize and make yourself
believe it's worse:

feel lighter.

the pace quickens;
the boss strolls into the room to
the hypocritical silence
of heads huddled in work,
his black boots thudding
the floor with authority.

The wall clock,
with its imprisoned ticking,
drowning the beatings of my heart
too soft to be heard.