Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
finding myself struggling with twenty-seven years the magic number until I can retire seems a thousand lifetimes away and how will I ever stay in one place that long… for near forty years’ worth of days I have floundered between part-time and joblessness… some of it as a ****** some as a young adult trying to find my way… pondering solvency, monetarily I consider my real options: theft leads to jail hard work leads to hard work 401k’s and retirement planning are often stolen by the greed of the 1%-ers bailout for the monopoly kings… where is my bailout for living in America for this long? who has been diligently investing in my trust fund? why is this what ‘making it’ looks like? answerless questions lay piled on the floor some hurriedly jotted on napkins others tattooed on my forehead none ripe or ready… I know I can keep on keeping on I hustled ****** for ten years ….but I want it to be easier I desire to bathe in bling and throw hundreds out the window yelling about how much I don’t give a **** ….but for now, I will just get up to my alarm wash my face and hands and play slave to the machine one more day
0
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
brass ring out of reach
finding myself struggling with twenty-seven years the magic number until I can retire seems a thousand lifetimes away and how will I ever stay in one place that long… for near forty years’ worth of days I have floundered between part-time and joblessness… some of it as a ****** some as a young adult trying to find my way… pondering solvency, monetarily I consider my real options: theft leads to jail hard work leads to hard work 401k’s and retirement planning are often stolen by the greed of the 1%-ers bailout for the monopoly kings… where is my bailout for living in America for this long? who has been diligently investing in my trust fund? why is this what ‘making it’ looks like? answerless questions lay piled on the floor some hurriedly jotted on napkins others tattooed on my forehead none ripe or ready… I know I can keep on keeping on I hustled ****** for ten years ….but I want it to be easier I desire to bathe in bling and throw hundreds out the window yelling about how much I don’t give a **** ….but for now, I will just get up to my alarm wash my face and hands and play slave to the machine one more day
s-lyman-temple
Written by
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem