Counting On Life Poem by Saint Cynosure

Truth don't exist,
all love is false.
Every man is a slave,
and time is the boss.
You can work in the fields,
or live in the house.
Disagree with deal,
you'll soon be kicked out.
It is best that you smile,
and just bow your head.
Bleed on the inside,
and spit out the lead.
Carry on calmly,
and don't count your days.
You'll be confused by the factors,
or sums that they make.
Cause numbers can lie,
if your no good at math.
Life's first half is addition,
second half it subtracts.