Work

Poem

Put me to work

Until my last Breath

Let me work

Like your mules and horses

Dogs and Oxen

Free my idle hands

This God-forsaken immoral mind

This unholy, unemployed thinker

Chide me until blistered bloodied

And then force me further

My soul’s only solace sits

When standing

On sore and sorry soles

If left on laurels

I only learn of more illicit longings

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Posted Dec 7, 2022, 4:11 PM UTC

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