A Thought for Labor Day

Is man but a workhorse to be slowly ground to death To slice his limbs to ribbons on a slaughterhouse machine To breathe in sewer muck and mire or hurl on tractor-trailers never-ending tires To toil in anonymity on a thankless assembly line or inhale the toxic fumes of an Appalachian coal mine… Young man, learn a skilled trade or train for a profession Life does not have to be misery and depression