This place is a mausoleum Walls filled with sunny smiles and bolds treks out East Who could have known how small life could shrink? shrivelled and pathetic, gray and small, filled with trite platitudes: "today, I'm grateful I get to breathe" Wasn't I told to get something more? Become something more? Am I still to dream, or was that too a pilfered myth? The marketer's con? One side: Work at Google Found startups Disrupt industries under the agile musculature of a lynx Small, and sharp, and ruthless Ready to pounce and devour where its eyes next set Another side: content yourself and breathe In and out Enjoy your time alive however it may come to pass before your darkness comes over before your body gives way to gravity Is nobody else caught here? Am I truly and utterly alone?