The Mechanics of Life

As I fall deeper into the void society calls “life”

I have noticed a few things

The periodic feel of the days, weeks, months, years

It all becomes a blur

Society is confining our creativity

It takes its machines and forms our thoughts

Our mechanical thoughts that ought to be creative

Mechanical days

Mechanical nights

We are all caught in a cycle

The cycle, to be more specific

Society constrained us into it

It takes great power to rise against the cogs and gears which are in control of our lives

There are only few outliers in the cycle

Most cannot escape the never-ending whirl of confinement

Nobody can simply plan their own life

The robots who came before you have it all laid out

Go to college, get a job, buy a house, find a wife

Your grandma, your grandpa, your uncles and aunts

They’ve been through this cycle as well

They had no thoughts solely for themselves

Mechanical days

Mechanical nights

This plan had been bred for generations preliminary to their own

Planted right into the little hardware system they call ahead

But then there are that few that I mentioned earlier

Those outliers, those few

They possess the power of hundreds

A lot of pondering they do

Society sees them

But cannot comprehend

The outliers do not fit the cardboard cutout shaped like a man

They end up doing something they should never do

pricking and prodding

Those poor, little few

Those few think for themselves and get chastised for it

They are unfairly ridiculed

Just for having a sliver of difference inside of themselves

In the end

Was your life really well spent?

Living a life that was already set

All these thoughts are running through your head

You always aspired to be creative

But when someone else does it

It’s just not right

They don’t fit into the mechanics of this robotic life