We tumble.

In a too big box,

Like too small matches.

Jostled forth,

And back,

And forth once more,

And back again.

Tightly packed like cigarettes,

Taken out every so,

A new pack every morning

Every night

Sparks fly

Iron squeals

Everyday life blurring by

Getting pushed

And shoved

And jostled

To get ahead

To get there faster

All together like beads on a string

Yet strangers all the same

Further than ever

Up high like kings and queens

Until it all stops

Life stills

We tumble

In a too big world

With too small footprints

No longer kings and queens

(Though we never realized to begin with)

No longer jostled

Or shoved

No longer rushing,

Or wishing to get ahead

Further than ever

Until the next pack is bought