A poem
By Dustin Plank (Dusty_PlZ)
Work
Toil
And never rest
The ones who fall
Shall feed the rest
Stock the shelves
And pay the bills
It ain’t worth nothing
If it can’t be shilled
Work, work, sleep, repeat
If you hate the monotony
You can live in the street
From when we are born
Our life is work
We work for money
We work for country
We work for God
In the end, we work for nothing
With our bodies and minds we feed it
And our sacrifice keeps the machine going
How I wish someone would throw a grenade in the works
So mankind would never work again
Simply to feed a machine for pigs
Studio CreatiV: The Writings and poetry of Dustin Plank 