Time's UpA Poem by Bill MacEachernDesperation
I do declare
My time is near The day will come When I'm all done I cannot climb Nor can I run I'm out of breath My drum beats none The taxman knocks I have no more My skin is rot And always sore My car's a wreck In need of parts I'm always stressed If it'll start My job's driving The sick around The job's driving Me in the ground It's very clear My time is here The day has come I'm so undone © 2016 Bill MacEachern |
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