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Poem

Walk out to get the mail
I get a letter from W. Fargo 
They want to put my house in jail
My  job doesn't give me much dough

Get up to an alarm
Go to a micromanaged job
Doing three positions at once
All those seconds to hours become a fog

I think of all the CEO's that brought this on
I'm not the only one
Millions know where this comes from
Money, money, money
Guess it's too late, it's done

Really wish that a few decades ago
When outsourcing and efficiency experts dropped in
That the generation would have had the guts
To value family over property
The fact they didn't drives me nuts
It's brought us to a depressing poverty
Dead presidents on paper are pointless
Big business should come with an ointment

I realized a while back
There's nothing more scary 
Than someone with nothing to attack
So when everyone only has their families
They'll realize the greed is a ****ery

They can take my house
They can take my car
My dream was never to die with these
My loved ones, 
They're what will make my heart go far

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