Queuing in a dollar craze


I am tired I am afraid I don’t know what will happen. After today Wake up, make up I’m thinking “seize the day”. But the news is wretched The office is empty And it’s only Monday. I am scared I am derailed What part of the day remains to seize, anyway? What part of this dream will live to tell but a somber tale? What part of this mess Can I salvage, if we fail? What part of this plan Is but boxes and tape? What crossroad on this path Isn’t a queue in a dollar craze? I wonder when they gather For the last Payday Will we be numbers Or names to castaway? Word on the street It isn’t going away. “it’s only getting worse”, they chatter in dismay. Our world has bent its back To parasites and economic disarray. Should I leave Where does one go On a very long holiday? Alas, My one guiding voice was silenced By birds that turned him prey. Our escape Paints the skyline A perfect purple and gray. And I’m looking up But wish We could stay.

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