On the clock,
I wonder
Who is truly
Getting the better deal -
My time, my life,
Thousands of
My finite breaths,
Just for money:
Just to survive?
The expectation of gratitude
For these wages,
For permitting me the money
To survive when I'm
Too sick to work...
I don't know why
I should be grateful
For the bare minimum
In exchange
For each breath of mine
I take
Of this stale
Office air;
For the minutes, hours,
Days, weeks, months,
And years
Of my existence
That they profit so greatly from.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
