Work was once a challenge
Now it is a bore
Like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill
Only to watch it tumble back down
—For what? A few dollars an hour?
They keep us busy so we do not notice
How truly pointless this all is
How they are draining the lives out of us
Where is the art?
Where is the connection?
Where is the purpose?
Where is the life?
We are all just pushing boulders
Up our own treacherous hills
And watching them tumble down each day
Sisyphus, each one of us,
And yet we seem to not care
So long as we get to go home
At the end of the day
But now the boulder is chained to our ankles
And follows us wherever we go
We are never truly free
Of that tedium
That threatens to crush us
About the Creator
Stephanie Hoogstad
With a BA in English and MSc in Creative Writing, writing is my life. I have edited and ghost written for years with some published stories and poems of my own.
Learn more about me: thewritersscrapbin.com
Support my writing: Patreon
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