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.
Limbs flailing,
back breaking,
life ending
all for another's task--
meaningless
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.
Rules?
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2. Link back to Poet Share/B.S. Poets from your post.
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4. Read the other pieces and leave a comment after linking.
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1 comment:
Beautiful! Don't worry so many people (including me) has felt this way about work!
I got another idea, I am putting a prompt up for Tuesdays again (for new people and it's not the same)but I'm going to write for it and maybe do a quote instead. If you want to try it there's' new categories and I explained them and this.
Hang in there!
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