Riding the rails
of a runaway clock,
she burns the candle at both ends.
And in the eleventh hour,
as it barrels around the bend,
the car splits in two
and she flies
into a torrent of choas.
all for another's task--
and ultimately unappreciated.
I really need to find another job. LOL! Please believe... it really isn't THAT bad. ;)
Written as part of Poet Share/B.S. Poets, 7/27/13, Number Two.
1. Write a short poem or vignette about the Gif or image.
2. Link back to Poet Share/B.S. Poets from your post.
3. Sign up in the Mr. Linky list, linking directly to your post, AFTER you've posted.
4. Read the other pieces and leave a comment after linking.
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