On the grind

Working my butt off as the weeks turn into years.

POEM

1/29/2023

I don’t know if I’m even alive

I’m broke but working all the time

In hopes of riches to be mine

Continuously on the grind

Inside the gears feel insecure

I hate the cold to pierce my core

Aching stays to find a cure

This feeling pains when I’m right here

All alone then sadness plays

Is this the price that I must pay?