Routine

The foyer fills and empties

with the same soulless steps

rhythmically going through the motions

reciting rehearsed hellos,

before taking their usual places

in elevator queues.

Travelling up several stories

they arrive at their places

to desks vacated daily

(an illusion of choice)

serving as nothing more than a reminder

of disposability

despite structured routine.

Hours of the same pass

dutifully completing their work

but tired eyes always turn

looking to the window

hoping against hope

for something new tomorrow.

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