a poem called the clock

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: February 03, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 03, 2012



the worst enemy of the worker---

it stares back at you ticking away

informing quietly

of every single second, minute, hour

that you will never ever get back &

the worker shakes their fist at it

mentally, if not physically,

hoping that by some magic act,

a few hours will suddenly pass

for no reason but the satisfaction of the



the worker who hates the clock

has always hated the clock

for they do not have a career

which defines them & makes others love them

(holding them above the rest of us with jobs).


the worker who wants to bash in the face of the clock

knows that they are replaceable &

that what they do is only valuable on an hourly


they do not hold a salary &


every minute spend in front of that ticking


is one more closer to being laid off, “let go,” or


whereas those who hardly notice it is there,

go on their merry salaried way

into the weekend.


if you know this enemy,

do not try & win it over

for it will not budge---

do your best to ignore it &

focus your hatred on those who do not need

to abide by it &

the next time you hear the words “middle class”

pop out of the mouth of some scumbag lying


as if we were all living in a motherfucking disney


know that you are not alone

in this march towards death. 


our time will come when all the clocks will be



© Copyright 2020 delapruch. All rights reserved.

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