The lights are on, but nobody’s home,

A mask hides the emptiness within,

The festering within the dome,

Leads to nothing but chagrin,


The mind is clouded, eyes are empty,

The spark of life no longer there,

No torch or flame to carry,

Just a burden to bear.


How much longer can I live,

Stuck in the meaningless void,

For each has something they can give,

Or a purpose that they once enjoyed.


Who is it that I wish to be,

In this world full of challenge,

For it is Work that will set you free,

From the cycle of whinge and binge.


A path, a call, set out for me,

I know not where it leads,

Yet within me I have found the seeds,

My eyes start to glimmer in glee.

By Konstantijn Rondhuis

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