When is it that the bottom line
Became ever so important
More than the people
Who allow it to be possible
We fight each other on roads
To travel to places
And work for people
Who do not care about us
When we have scars on our neck
They finish the choking
When we are yet weary
They only ask for more
We are not machines designed
To run without stopping
We labor valiantly
And sometimes seek rest
We get the blame othertimes
They always get the money
We get to be sick too
While they get to be rich
We sell our labors daily
Climbing over others repeatedly
To get another piece of scrap
And forgot to keep each other
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem