Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the sun rises and work begins
it doesn't matter, the seasons
come and go, but we remain.
cousins fly to florida and points south;
a vacation would be nice, but
who has time for that, hell
not even a weekend to rest.
spend our days working for crumbs
scrambling under foot, dodging traffic
as the big boys keep muscling in...
we are tough, we hold our ground
they may own the streets,
but we have the numbers.

I wish I knew how to do that
your poetry knocks me on my a$$

Pains me to read this. I gotta go to work now.
Only 2 more days to the weekend. As if that will make it any better.