Working hard Is all I know
Even though don’t like to show
You can see It on their face….
Miserable Is all I know
Bunch of yes man I say no
Bring the bomb I wanna blow
Love to put them In their place….
With my smile you know I show
Why are they so miserable?
Find It fricking terrible
Be grateful for the life you have….
Like a bear It’s bearable
Your attitude Is horrible
Praying for a miracle
No wonder why you always sad….
You deffo not adorable
On the floor you stand & stare
That Is you so don’t compare
With my job role & your role….
Don’t compare coz It ain’t fair
You can see I love my hair
Love my hats so be aware
Wanna put a big hole….
On your forehead yeah I swear
You laughed at my uniform
Your face Is like a unicorn
I wear a tracky & my hoodie….
Even though the weather’s warm
Shirt & blazer what you wear
You’re so jealous man I swear
Might be skinny but a foodie….
Cooking up this beat I stir
Find a job to keep you happy
Not In Harrods wear your nappy
Such a baby you hate my smile
You’re a lady you’re In denial
You’re In London that’s my country
Far away from home don’t @ me
Foreign pricks like you are here
Wrote this song so listen clear
Working hard Is all I know
Even though don’t like to show
You can see It on their face….
Miserable Is all I know
Bunch of yes man I say no
Bring the bomb I wanna blow
Love to put them In their place….
With my smile you know I show
About the Creator
Haychie_Artist
Just A Regular Guy From London Who
Writes & Rhymes….
Writing & Rhyming Comes From The
Heart….
Voice For The Voiceless….
Keep reading
More stories from Haychie_Artist and writers in Poets and other communities.
Can You Drive a Ford Fiesta Through a Desert?
I’m flying down the B1 highway from Windhoek to Keetmanshoop with a map and a boot full of camping gear. I’m excited for the first stop of my Namibian road trip: the Quiver Tree Forest. I spot the sign and turn onto the C17, off the tarmac and onto the gravel. I’ll be there soon; it’s only ten miles or so. I am unprepared for what comes next. The car slides and slips across the road. I am not fully in control anymore. I slow to a crawl. The car judders and shudders, the noise deafening, the vibrations rattling the teeth in my skull. It takes me around an hour to drive the ten miles. I arrive at the campsite relieved to be in one piece, even if it feels like all my bones have been shaken slightly out of place. I will later learn that this is what happens when the gravel road becomes “corrugated”, and that the roads authority goes round once a week to “grade” them. Seems I arrived about 6 days after the grader had last been round.
By Jenifer Nim3 days ago in Wander
Comments (1)
I really like the flow of your poetry