Stolen Joy

On the bus to work each morn

Under the gorgeous light of dawn

Sit those in all-consuming woe

Their newspaper takes away their soul

All throughout the daily grind

Friends and colleagues toil at our side

Yet we look down and barely respond

Our phones take away our bonds

Oftentimes our greatest place

Is being in true love's embrace

Yet now our love comes off the shelf

Date apps take away our self

Each and every single night

As work's end comes into sight

We rush towards a stagnant leisure

FOMO takes away true pleasure

Everywhere I look around

Beauty there is to be found.

Yet eyes are pulled to profit's regime

Adverts take away our dreams

As I continue to exist

Surrounded by the chance of bliss

I have no time to go and thrive

Stress takes away our lives

All these things, these stolen joys

Are the human spirit itself. Without

them, hope is easily lost. Creativity is lost,

replaced with the thoughts of others.

Others with money, others for whom

our attention, effort, minds, our very

lives are commodities to be bought and sold.

Surely if we all work too hard, the answer

is less work, not more content. "Content".

I don't care what it is, any content will

do, so long as it fills my mind for a while.

Escapism itself is the trap, it seems

The will is there, I want to find

The time and space to free my mind

but it's hard with all these pressures. The pressure of

society itself. It's too much; overwhelming sometimes. Still...

Deep breath in, deep breath out

It's impolite to scream and shout.

Instead let's leave our woe's employ

Let's reclaim our stolen joys!

If the news gives pure despair

Read a book, escape the snare

Instead of seeking Twitter likes

Seek instead a friend's insights

Instead of...

...

*sigh* I'm tired.

I'll just watch Netflix and check Twitter.