Day 1: My feet hit the cold tile and my eyes strain at the board.

I hear your monotonous bore,

I think, I think, no more.

I am just another one of the horde.

Day 2: The straps pull at my back

and I walk the line.

Always believing what you say, in time.

Always becoming another card in the stack?

Day 3: slowly I align,

much like the swine

I await the washing,

the massing.

Day 4: forcably I fight,

but none can withstand the might

of the establishment.

Oh, the political harrasment.

Day 5: bitter as pure salt

I fall,

the first snow flake on the asphalt.

no more can I answer my own call.

Weekend: I drudge home,

time to wash my parents.

Everyone is of monotonous tone.

Finally now I am the missionary of adherence.