Like clockwork, I mark each day
with the same routine, in an identical way
limbs like parts of a puppet,
pulled and pushed on command
rebelling against instinct,
listen only to revolting external demands.
Lost, I have, my intrinsic fervor
that has given way to this robotic ritual;
ground down lies my once fiery demeanor,
sunken, my inspired imagination
and skill
my work emblematic of this loss
rarely rises beyond mundane drivel.
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