Treadmill

Treadmill

                   Working at the mill

                                 Nothing seemed real

                                       Year after wasted year

It was like I was running to my destiny

                                    On a treadmill

                                              Unable to feel

                                                Always a plan

                                                Next year

Next year I’ll quit… To become a new man

                                        But instead

                                                          I take a double shift

                                    Because jobs are hard to find

                                      They say… It’s ok

                            For some… The un-chosen ones

                                       To waste a mind

                                                     To waste precious time

                            So I guess in a recession

                                                   No one cares

                            About wasted life confessions

                                    Just show up on time

                             Don’t call in sick

                       Never quit

                                  Waste a mind… It’s not a crime

Waste my life 

      Look deep in my eyes

                                A crime is incased in lines






Whispers From The Cemetery
Poetry Without Rules
© Paul H. Keeler… A Cosmic Cowboy




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