Out here looking for prestige.
Twenty floors up in that decorated office.
All noses for the same plate of food.
practice in the mirror.
Ground floor is a peasant factory.
You want to be up there looking down.
Still pretending to be humble,
Not really pulling it off.
It will take you up.
They will give you your own office.
Space to frame certificates on your wall,
Pace back and forth.
Gripping your briefcase.
Staring up at the twentieth floor,
back at the face on the watch.
You've become so important to yourself.
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