I dunno what I should call it so I just posted it as "cycles". Lemme know what you think.
Staring into the glass, the reflection is there, staring right on back
Eyes glazed over, black abyss
Shoes shined, fine suit and a briefcase
Just another face in a crowd
A statistic, a number, an empty shell
Mind numb from the daily tasks
Time changes, nothing else
Like a train that departs from a station
You will find that all it leaves is empty spaces
And when it is your turn to depart
There will always be replacements
Lives dictated by bells and whistles
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