Red Resurrected

AL17

I toil, I labour.

As the blaze of the sun

Turns into the shimmer of the moon,

The skies see me undone.

“Give us less hours!”

 

I want bread for my wife.

But I do not know her grief,

When I sell my life

For life. 

“Give us less hours!”

 

With the intensity of red - 

Red fire, red blood.

My blood.

I’ll fight.

Give us less hours.

  • Author: AL17 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 7th, 2021 03:15
  • Comment from author about the poem: A poem on unfair work hours from the perspective of the workingman
  • Category: Sociopolitical
  • Views: 27
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Comments4

  • L. B. Mek

    '996' is the kind of work culture
    so many others have to deal with...
    still, we all fight our own battles
    thanks for sharing

    • AL17

      Yeah I guess it is all relative. Thanks for the comment

    • Paul Bell

      You've got it in one. The rest of Europe works the hours that suit them. The British worker just works, and even in retirement, he'll still be working.

    • orchidee

      Good write 17.

      • AL17

        Thank you!

      • dusk arising

        When you have a family to feed you take every opportunity to provide what they need...... just ask those who are self employed, the risk takers.

        • AL17

          True. Thanks for your comment.



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