Work Slave
Listen to poem:
Driving home in the dark
telegraph poles like a thousand crucifix's line my road.
Winding lanes leading home, but my life going nowhere.
Just a number on a plc payroll.
I'm just waiting to find out what will kill me.
There's no escape victim or violator we all die
slave to commerce.Can you live without it !.
My two up two down world
My body clock ticking down
Was I born or manufactured for some company's gain
A florescent light replaces my sun
and I talk, at the sound of call centre bleep
I'm no free man, a paid slave
not even human to the management crew
just another victim of corporate greed
to be tossed aside as my child takes my seat
on this cruel roller coaster ride
CALLED LIFE
comp entered 12/09
Copyright © Stephen Pennell | Year Posted 2016
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