Just Another Little Cog

There is one thing
About my job
That I can always rely on
It’s soul-destroying

I’m serious –

I sit here and help
To create
A billion-dollar empire
For someone else
Someone I’ll never meet

I tell myself
It’s a means to an end
But I recently realised
That the end of this
Doesn’t MEAN anything

I’m just a misshapen cog
In a clockwork machine
That will perpetually run
Whether I’m here or not

It will just continue
to churn out
All the cash
That its owners
And board members crave
That they need
To keep their
Pointless little lives afloat

I should probably
Just chuck it all in
Tell them thank you
but fuck you
But I won’t

Why?

Because at the end
I have enough money
To blow on things
That make me forget
Just what a shitty little cog
I really am

And that probably means something

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