heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
We Are Killing Ourselves
The world wakes up at six A.M. and all of us shuffle to work. Eight to five, Monday to Friday with two days off a week. We groan like drones and rot to our bones for companies who'd replace us without skipping a beat. Tik tok, we stare at the clock with our aching, sunken eyes. "I hate this job," "I hate my boss" become regular songs we sing.
By The Grim Weeper4 years ago in Poets
