Rough Edges
by Michael Doyle


Sometimes it seems
I've lost all my dreams
At the rough edges
And window ledges

Are all I'm hanging onto
It's been so long since I've held you
Stuck working the night shift
In a world full of grift

The system works its cut
Against the survivors of the glut
It's a world of interesting company
Walk on players run the infirmary

Jacked into the system's brutality
Played out without any subtlety 
We're all tied up in a massacred brand
It's propriety, you have to understand

All in all, it's a rhetorical mess
To which it seems we quietly confess
The system as played, when put to test
Is, as it seems, no better than the rest

(c) November 11, 2022  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved