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The Shawshank Echo: A Corporate Labyrinth in Verse
In the sepulcher of my office, where daylight fades to gray,
I dwell in silent agony, my heart yearning to stray.
Underpaid, overworked, a cog in the machine,
Each day a struggle, a bitter routine.
The commute stretches out, a desolate expanse,
Two hours of solitude, lost in a trance.
Between concrete and asphalt, my spirit takes flight,
Dreams crushed by the weight of corporate might.
In the office corridors, I navigate the maze,
A pawn in the game, lost in the corporate haze.
The seniors, like vultures, circling above,
Their words, a poison, a venomous dove.
Beneath the harsh fluorescence, I labor away,
Yet dreams of escape, like specters, at my soul play.
But the specter of reality, a formidable foe,
Without this job, where else could I go?
The Shawshank Redemption, a refuge in celluloid,
A sanctuary for the spirit, in hardships coiled.
“Any place you don’t like, but you can’t leave,
Any kind of life you don’t like, but can’t retrieve.
