Prison

As I drive my way back home daily,
I can see people making their way through
the unsettling traffic, back to the ghetto
they all call home.
The same place everyday.
Same sets of joy and same sets of agony (well, most of the time).
Joy again, I believe, is but a set of comforting situations
we have made ourselves to believe in.
The meaningless existence – with even more meaningless chores and battles
that we have made ourselves to get engrossed in –
we call life, is but a prison we have gradually built around ourselves.
And we are happy
Happily imprisoned in that very confinement, we don’t know what!
We are happy not to have a life
Happy to allure ourselves with the comforting lie that tomorrow,
tomorrow we’ll live the life we always wished to live –
knowing well that tomorrow is but today unturned!
 
I drive my way back home
to embrace the meaningless ritual called life
Yet again