Work

Work to live
Live to die
Another forty years
Of nine to five?

Food,warmth shelter
None of that is free
Yet all of those things
I need to provide for me.

Trade your time
For dirty money
Forty hours a week
Doesn’t keep me comfy!

It’s dull; unfulfilling
It’s not my dream.
Permanently at the bottom
Of this pyramid scheme.

But I have no option
The chore, that is work
I have to accept my fate
No matter how hard it hurts.

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Write Or Die

Over the past few days 

I’ve just wanted to die 

The only thing stopping me

Is my desire to write.


I think I can make it 

I dream of making it big

Be proud of my achievements

And retire whilst I’m still a kid. 


Fantasise of peace 

As I write in my attic 

With a little bit of craziness 

As I meet my fanatics. 


To inspire my work 

Wanderlust would lead 

Note down my experiences 

For my fans to read. 


So I’ll finish on this note 

I’ll  be writing ’til I die 

Continue to put pen to paper

Until my last goodbye.