They call it civic duty.
I call it handing over blood money with a forced smile.
Every year they take a slice of your life, feed it into a machine that gets fatter, slower, and dumber. The roads still crack. The bills still climb. The suits still tell you to be grateful.
You work late.
They waste early.
And when you ask where it went, they hand you a speech, a flag, and another invoice.
Funny thing about taxes.
They never run out of your money.
Only results.














