work,
sleep
work,
sleep,
work,
sleep,
work,
then work again

stuck in this digital timeline
the days never passed
it’s always on repeat
like time is a concubine
living with wealthy billionaires
working endlessly day and night
making her ends meet
so nobody will know what day it is

who will make this world a better place?
huh, the rich only care for themselves
we’re disillusioned to the fantasy that money
will fix everything in a flash
a bandage on a wound, as they say
but it leaves gaps and crevices
it will never be healed from the blood it leaves
the blood will always fall like rain on a wedding day

i am not a robot who will end up in a dumpster
if i am no use to everyone
if i am no use, what i am then?
a entertainer?
a maid?
a office worker?
a human?
who i am?