Drone’s Life
Mia Marie Collins
The drones are working,
their voices, inaudible, indistinct,
giving rise to cacophony,
occupying the void that is monotony.
Different shades of gray
color their lifeless, lightless days
as they march endlessly on
into the oblivion of boredom.
Feed the machine, evil green.
Fuel the fire of corporate desire.
Stamp out passion, shred dignity,
All in the name of industry.
And so it is, the drones life,
full of detachment, puking the bile of strife,
heads stuck in a noose, hands clutching a knife,
stabbing at an organization that knows nothing of contrite.
