What is it that we did\nTo deserve this\n Human wrangling\nHanging and dangling from invisible strings\nWe move, swing to the rhythm of heaven\'s music\nIt casts shadows upon us\nForcing us to endure the worst\n\u201cRewarding us\u201d with regularity and Routine\nPunishing us with the same means\nLimiting us with fabricated freedom\nWe are made to feel shame for cutting the strings with scissors\nFor I am to live in my house and love my brothers and my sisters as I am supposed to\nI am supposed to wait here for my turn\nBumping and clanking against other human sized marionettes\nAll patient like me waiting for the music in the sky to shift\nWaiting for their cues in the gigantic puppet show to come\nWhy do some people leave?\nAnd why do some people stay?\nWhy do we sometimes ignore the pink of the sunset?\nAnd why do we sometimes bask in its heat as if it\'s actively fleeting?\nRoutine\nMorphs so rapidly\nGrows to be so broad\nWe forget that it is in fact\nRoutine\nInvisible strings made out of it\nThe living breathing puppets find it addictive, Routine\nNicotine existing in the very air we inhale\nPristine lies, it is\nMasked as security\nDisguised as an everyday safety net\nWe forget that we dangle in unison\nThe very thing that stunts our growth\nChange is no longer our goal\nRoutine stole that from us\nWe now lay in what we believe to be a bed of comfort\nSimply watching the ceiling \nFinding tired concepts more appealing than adventure\nSettling for feeling satisfaction\nWithout any excess\nWe\'re seemingly born to remain oblivious\nIgnoring our own souls\' desire to progress\nPretending we can survive on the knowledge that up is up\nAnd down is down\nAnd this, is in fact my body\nFailing to ponder what the word mine even means\nRoutine\n