Red Paint

A deafening countdown.
A clock that's ticking in my head.
Seeing in black and white.
I'm not alive, nor am I dead.

Stuck, forced into tedious routine.
The clock still trudges along.
This is all I've ever known.
Somehow, this feels all wrong.

Individuality is now dead.
"At least there's no war now", they said.
Stuck in the same, dull rhythm.
I see no faces, hear no song.

Break free from your chains
Sing your own fucking tune
Stop being a cog in a broken machine
You have the choice so make it now

It's all you know - your comfort zone.
But does it give your world colour?
Conflict comes from opposing ideas.
Is this reason enough to dim the light?

War ends life.
Individuality has problems.
So what does one do?
Black and white or paint the world in red?