He follows the same orbit
Everyday
In the same motion,
Devoid of any thrilling emotions,
With desperate dedication
Without changing the pace of his muscles
Or the direction of his notion
Day after day
He isn't allowed to run
Or shift, tilt, step
Even a tiniest bit,
away from this linear trajectory
Which he tries to bruise and beat
Using the enduring might
Of his legs
Yet every morning
He opens his eyes
To the searing light
Of a sun
Pushing and shoving him
Mercilessly,
Towards the place
of his daily grind
And exertion