Read Between the Lines (A Short Monologue)

I live a simple life. I wake up every mourning and shower and eat a 
My existence is broken. Pitiful. Once upon a time, I was a revolutionary, but now I am broken. 
small breakfast of toast and milk. I ride my bike though the 
Once I cried for rebellion, but not I . . . just . . . cry. I wander through a desert of people, each a 
crowded street to my job. I love my job. I work in a wonderful 
grain of sand is another hopeless face. I slave away in a dirty, gray cubicle for a dirty, gray 
building. I work in a wonderful cubicle. I work for a wonderful 
government that works only for their own interests. It uses and WASTES the very people it
man. He works for the wonderful government. The wonderful 
professes to protect. Those in power attempt to control the masses. They break us down until
government works with my best interests in mind. They never waste. 
we know nothing but mindless brokenness. Oppression from above. They feed us ridiculous
. .After I work through the mourning, I eat and apple for lunch. An 
propaganda, wasting our potential. Words loose their meaning when passing between smashed 
apple a day keeps the doctor away. After I work through the 
pots, vessels, with no hope and empty eyes. We hide, we HIDE our faces, unable to break
afternoon, I chat with the secretary. After we chat, I ride my 

through. Without hope, the masses are swindled into apathy. They will die without someone 

bicycle through the cobblestone street back home. I eat soup for 
to raise them up. We will die without someone to raise us up. Once upon a time I was a 
dinner. Alone. I read the newspaper. Alone. I watch television. 
revolutionary, but now I am broken. Once I cried for rebellion but now I cry for a savior.
Alone. I go to bed. Alone. I live a simple life. I wake up every 
Save us. My existence is broken . . . Pitiful.
mourning and shower and eat a small breakfast of toast and milk
. . .