Blistered feet and worn out minds
We work the day away.
Who am I to scrape together these coins?
“Pain demands to be felt” he says,
And of course, work does too.
Scarred hands and tough skin,
Harvesting the last thoughts from their minds.
A little thinner, a little prettier.
Will this product be bought?
Is it good enough?
Am i good enough?
Dig deeper, hit harder.
The product must be sold perfectly
The rest is thrown away
Just like my values, my opinions.
Hold it in, work harder, longer.
More, they want more.
Tear it up, burn it down.
Give it without imperfections.
Try more, work more.
Work until your dead.
Explode it until it’s gone
Restart with nothing
Fail the product
Try more, work harder
Until....
I’m dead