the grind

working weeks are long and drab
they seem to never end
you run in circles five days straight
then monday start again

try as you might to spice things up
they stay so very plain
you rise, you eat, you work, you sleep
then do it all again

though weekends mean to be more fun
the job’s taken a toll
too tired to raise a toast all night
you crawl back to your hole

and buried with the bulbs dimmed low
mere sleep becomes your goal
’til monday’s work awakens
in your heart a gaping hole

About The Author

andy

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Author’s web sitehttp://poemsaboutonionbagels.com

05

06 2009

1 Comments Add Yours ↓

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  1. noreply@blogger.com (Nicole) #
    1

    kicks dylan thomas' ass, yo.



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