Photo by Simran Sood on Unsplash
There’s no animal chasing me
No immediate threat
But I can’t rest
There’s no gun to my head
It just feels like it
And I’m trapped
Pressured to perform
While absorbing bad news daily
The future is fucked
Apocalypse any day now
But we still have to make money
Trade our time and pride and passion
For food and shelter and medicine
For permission to survive
Work is never done
Got to be vigilant
One mistake
And they take it all away
I can’t ever stop
Can’t even slow down
Hide the broken parts
And don’t forget to smile
Okay?
About the Creator
Leslie Writes
Another struggling millennial. Writing is my creative outlet and stress reliever.
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