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jeffrey conyers
Poems
Apr 2021
Apply Yourself
Jobs are limited?
So you hear.
Or you under this impression that never having one means you get top pay?
Back in the days of old youth was a hustler.
And drugs weren't the pursuit.
They cut grass and if you running on pride.
Then you must set it aside.
Grass cutting is a competitive trade.
Neighbors will accept a bargain if offered.
If he is charging $35?
You charge $25?
After all, it's business.
But you must apply yourself.
Who remembers?
Once eighteen you got a job?
Or got out?
So sitting around.
Written by
jeffrey conyers
united states
(united states)
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