I walk across the landing
and through the double doors
and aim towards the lift shaft,
that's where I'm going, of course.

It's as if it hears my footsteps
and needs no company
as that old elevator
shoots down to level 3.

Every single morning
as I approach its doors
it disappears pretty quick
down to those lower floors.

I swear it sees me coming
and doesn't like the look
so as I rush to hitch a ride
the **** thing slings its hook.

The doors are on a system,
computerised I read.
But whenever I get near them
they change the ****** speed.

I stand alone here waiting
and it just isn't fair
'cause I am stuck up here
when I want to be down there.

It speeds down to the bottom
and sits on the ground floor
you can here it taunting you
with the movements of the door.

Then after what seems ages
it gradually starts to rise
giving me some hope at last
as I can hear the noise.

Then it makes a pit stop
at another floor
and seems to take forever
to open and close its door.

Each and every level
seems to get a viewing
as if it wants to **** some time,
with my mind it is *******.

And then it reaches the sixth floor
as if it is my saviour
and finally opens up the doors
as if it's doing a favour.

It seems as if this machine
requires me to stalk
so now I've found the stairwell
and instead I'm going to walk.

No fancy words, no subtle metaphors.
No unnecessary rhyming, no forced stanzas.
No charming characters, no outraged emotions.
No known beginning, nowhere to reach to.
No false claims, no stories to declaim.
No pretentious wisdom, no poor philosophies.
No insightful analysis, no blind remiss.
No powerful principles, no meek cries,
A plain simple poem; read it as it is
before it dies.