We ride in silence,
spinning in loops of light and numbness,
a wheel of purpose long forgotten,
each cabin a cell each soul a shadow.
Never asking where it leads,
Just fearing who might take our place.
Below, the watchers stand still,
blank eyes absorbing motion,
but never the meaning.
No cheers, no screams, just static.
They once called it joy
this turning of gears,
but the ride never stops,
and no one ever leaves.
The seat we earned burns beneath us,
a throne forged in sleepless trades,
sacrificed time,
those who clap for your rise
will cheer for your fall.
Is this life?
Endless scrolls in quiet cabins,
spinning beneath a pixel sky
while no one hears the others cry?
We are passengers
looped, muted,
trapped in windows of motion
with no exit key.