The Job

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My eyelids are heavy,
Weighted with lead.
The minutes drag on
Through the rush I dread.
My feet are weary,
In pain from standing
Hours unending,
And tasks demanding.
I grow tired, fatigued,
As my leisure fades away.
There is only work,
I see none of play.
But I'm okay, I'm fine.
I have no reason to whine.

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 09, 2017 ⏰

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