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Beyond the gripes and strife of the fruitful,
we are, the work-force.
Our eyes are dull,
but our product glimmers before us.
We labor and toil
And on our Labor Day
The real laborers -
Because that is our identity
And that is what we do.
Stamped into us like a US quarter dollar.
Our state, our year, our Motto.
This is who we are-
A true representative of the United States.
But on this Labor Day-
When our arthritic hands,
Take a moment to rest,
And our minds pause,
To appreciate the fruits of our labor.
What we have contributed to-
With our finite breaths and beats of the heart...
Well, as for me -
I don’t much like the end product.
Of all this toil and labor.
I don't need a shiny object to observe.
I just want the light back in my eyes.
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