Employment Propoganda

Why do we work?

It's a requirement for survival,

But lately a systematic design.

Designed for the perks,

The benefits and retirement enthrall,

Maintaining the masses through a pipeline.

Over forty years you have to offer,

Your best years at that,

Only for most of it to be stripped away.

All donations to Big Daddy's coffer,

Every new piece of furniture, gnawed at.

A little bit from here, a large wax strip painplay.

If you fall off the tracks,

It's expected that you get right on back.

File for unemployment, but look for a job.

Forced back into that phlegmatic throb.

For if you miss the next train,

There's no returning again.

There go your opportunities, your income, your dignity.

But why do we want it in the first place?

And who defined the value of your status?

The whole world staring down at you with pity.

Your friends and family judging you for your disgrace.

But for the first time the river of life feels mellifluous.

So how can it be,

That this requirement of misery,

Is something that we strive for?

When each repetitive day and horrible boss we abhor.

But when it's suddenly taken away we're liberated.

The stresses of reality abated.

Dare I ask, is it a necessity this employment,

Or merely propaganda meant to torment?

Will you remain in this loop, forever a pawn,

Or wade into the shadows a maverick withdrawn?

For what that wades in nomad land may be precarious,

But it shall finally feed the compulsions of the multifarious.