Hopeless Hustle
Working at late hours,
Seeing ugly owls,
Yet still the paid isn't ours
After all of the hustle
And so much bustle,
Our bowls are still empty
Even if there's a meal,
Hmm, it must be salty
All that we pray is to be heal
From the hash-ness of poverty
And to have our own property
The hash calling of our boss,
Is the same as an old bus
Even if he doesn't call U at all,
Just do something , after all
You'll still be call
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
