A rare thing happens
For those who work
All day

Everyday

Without a break

They give themselves
Two weeks

Out of the year

Maybe a month
But they
Consider that lucky

And these working accept
That this is the way it is
Keeping their head down
To the ****** grind-stone

Nodding
Praying
Watching
Sleeping

Drinking
Occasionally
But never
Too much

Never enough
Time to sit back
To truly think

The feeling is not of pity
Or superiority
But more of wonder

The questions that are not
On the clear glass mirror
Hiding underneath the
Toilet boil drain that spins

Awake, but in a dream
In a dream, but not yet awake
Living though dying

Facing Death

So To Live

In Truth

Dying so to Live