White Bird

The half-conversations in headsets

The strained eyes on screens

Nervous hands

Picking, pulling, stretching

Trying to get out of a straight jacket


In front of the screen

Next to your co-workers

You send emails

And roll your shoulders

The sound of crushed concrete


There’s a white bird

Outside your window

Among the concrete and glass

Where does it get its energy from?


Around these desks

The cracking of broken wings

A printing printer


The white bird outside

As I send out an email

That will never leave another office

Just like this one


The bird only has its wings

Yet we who can choose

Chose not to fly

Broken wings surround the printer

The humming and picking resuming


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