The point was moot, but she was mute,
The point was mute, and she was moot.
The barking dogs clawed at the clean carpet.
Fluorescent lights smoked my spirit,
and the muted lady trudged in her moot way.
The point should be love but everything is muted.
The escalator grinds endlessly,
and I wonder how she does it,
never having any time away from work.
I am like the escalator,
grinding away but no one benefits.