Work Death

A poem created out of frustration.

Running from the worms

Slowly,slowly

Feeling like the groundhog every single day

 

Emptying your soul for green paper and gold

Piece by piece

That’s what we’re supposed to do

 

The same faces and places everywhere you turn

Comrade to foe

Forgetting who we are.

 

Under pressure, exploding hearts

one time, two time

No time to waste time

 

Running towards the worms

Faster, faster.

Finally being able to rest.