"Work/Life" Balance

Our artist was murdered subtly in exchange for growing.
The cubicles appeared exciting, along with the parties the firm was throwing.
As the working man's plight to find beauty in business grew.
He began to realize there was little inspiration, no matter whence he drew.
His heart simply wasn't in it.
His co-workers were full of ambition.
The managerial monotony trickled in
As he lost all motivation.

Our artist was murdered violently in exchange for changing.
As he missed finding the perfect light aperture for his pictures, his mind was aching.
When he needed the perfect prose to express his regrets and fears,
His sorrow was drowned in happy hour cocktails and beers.
Where were the great writers and films?
The extra commas on the checks weren't enough.
Losing his dreams was a high price to pay.
No one ever said the real world would be this tough.

Our artist was murdered silently in exchange for freedom.
Yet, the death sentence they called a contract was an obligation to boredom.
The pocket of life where mistakes were allowed and encouraged
Closed, in exchange for safety and security, inspiration damaged.
The saddest form of irony,
His creativity is simply numbed.
The same attribute that got him hired in the first place
Is being robbed as all of his ambitions are dumbed.