The Rat Race
In his mind he makes his plans
So many things he'll do
To finish each and every one
He'd surely need four hands
He starts his day, but right away
He senses he's in trouble
Yet instead of scaling back a bit
His maniacal pace is redoubled
By noon he's gassed and at wit's end
How will everything get done
Panicked, he decides to skip his lunch
Make a desperate afternoon run
At 3:00 p.m. he sees it's hopeless
He'll never win the battle
It dawns on him his quest's insane
The finish line a death rattle
Copyright © Gershon Wolf | Year Posted 2020
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