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?