Working GameA Poem by Patrick O'NeilEarly morning. Duty calls.
Alarms to be, at beckon call.
We travel from, near and far
to be the next, great, business star.
Dressed to duel, in silk and tie
to blame and shame, the other guy.
The game is won, with someones fall.
He that gets, the bosses, dreaded call.
Many that toil, the working day
receive no more, than a workers pay.
The few proficient at the game
have great rewards, in company name.
© 2013 Patrick O'NeilAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on May 15, 2013 Last Updated on May 23, 2013 AuthorPatrick O'NeilGauteng, South AfricaAboutI am just an average man, with a normal live, and then suddenly i started writing poetry. Go figure??? I also post original rock style music on Sound Cloud, check it out if you are in to that sort .. more..Writing
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