O life on the modern, manic merry go round
Is decidedly monotonous and empty.
Part false, forged mask; part true, we present ourselves
For the cold, cut throat world of capitalism.
There seems to be no escape; no easy exit,
Unless one is able to extricate oneself
Completely from the system. For most, it's just the
Ebb and flow of 9 to 5 routine existence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Work can be a squirrel cage with us chasing the peanuts or it can be a nice experience for those who know the job of work. A well expressed poem.