Slave to Work

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sitting at work, tired, uninspired, and wondering what the hell I am doing this job for????

Submitted: January 24, 2008

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Submitted: January 24, 2008

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Slave to Work

 

Monday morning 6 a.m.

Sirens sabotage the calm

Lifeless arms reach out in vain

To quash the sound that brings the pain

 

Tuesday morning 6 a.m

Gunshot blasts wake from within

Doubled up in pitys' grief

Who ensnared me with this brief?

 

Wednesday Morning 6 a.m

Who am I and what's my name?

Who would choose to live like this,

Blind to life and all it's gifts?


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