Muted.

We are a muted society.

Growing older and working the nine to five

To earn the ability to buy all the colours in the world

To finally shed the layer of conformity from schooling days and

Be ourselves

To breathe and come out of

The stuffy box we have been kept in for too long

Only to dress

In the black and blues

Like living representations of bruised childhood dreams

And the dried blood of trees we killed to expand our knowledge

In tight business suits and suffocating ties

To fit

In to a different mold that is all too familiar

But we tell ourselves that this is our ultimate calling

But we blind ourselves with branded sunglasses to avoid the truth

But we voluntarily trade our sneakers for heels and our school books for documents and free wrists for strict watches

That will never stop ticking for a life that is never our own.

We are a muted society.

Constantly afraid on missing out on big events big promotions big news but not big dreams

And seeking comfort blending in on Orchard Road during peak hour

And squirming uncomfortably with heads all looking down when on an empty train home

And constantly having to plug in to devices that tend to control us even though it should really be the other way around

Because listening to real life sounds and being a part of it all that is

Unpredictable

Uncontrollable

Unfamiliar

Is too much for our fixed schedules fixed lives fixed hearts to bear

And to bare our emotions in real time is just too horrifying to comprehend

Because mascaras will run and blocked noses will come

That is not how a successful working adult should look like

So we keep everything in check inside and live

In denial

While we hate the young who are so loud and so direct with everything that they have and

Everything we still have but choose to turn away from

As we bind our own feet with untold expectations and look on with bitterness at children run whenever they want to run

And go to places we wish we did.

We are a muted society.

Because we turn away from the honest moments of voices sounds actions expressions faces shapes colours dynamics messes

And indulge in the superficial pretense appearances masks fixed manufactured controlled

And keep looping them nonstop like the same old stagnant playlist on carelessly cracked smartphones as they reflect our lives of

Numbness and quietness inside and out

Because we have grown used to the deadly silence that echoes inside on the left of our chests

As we unknowingly replaced the mechanisms of the human heart

With a digital clock that is more efficient more cost-friendly more slick

And mutable on demand.

 

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