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.


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.