Do this. Do that. Do something.

And then do it for a while.

Never stop, get a trade and work,

And try to fucking smile.

Now please count yourself lucky

But not lucky enough to count.

Every penny that you earn

Is not a big enough amount.

For you to shuffle off this shit hole

Unless a forceable adieu

So we work until we’re old

Bitter, brittle and we’re through.

It takes courage and conviction

We’re our own land lords.

In control of our eviction

As we’re swallowing the swords

Double edged with misery

Both sides seeming like a loss

Our work load filled with agony

Yes we’re a wanker of a boss.

But we can’t dismiss ourselves

So we keep calm and carry on.

The poison perched upon the shelves

But our strength to lift it’s gone.

Each day more taxing than the last

We watch our futures quickly passed

Our dreams like pest so swiftly gassed

They die, our hope hangs at half mast

And so we watch as some retire

Those on cruises, those on pyres

Some as hero’s, some as liars

Some as zeros. Most as criers.

Question what they’re saving for

Dying lessened, craving more

Realising life was quite a bore

Retiring from… they’re not quite sure.

#poems #poem #sad #retirement #work #dreams poetry