An ode to the lifeblood of society both past and present
The multitude of souls who break their spirits to present
Many invisible services to residents who resent
The smell of soiled clothes without their written consent
Or dirty fingernails that fix their home to their content
And fill their rooms with all varieties of foreign content
From all continents
Where beleaguered joints can make them look prominent
By spinning threads into patterns or metal into confident
Shapes that allure the senses and induces false confidence
Amongst others who toil under the same notion
That if they work hard enough
They’ll gain the boss’s devotion
Unaware the head office needs them more than they
Need the head office to provide them with pay
For without dirty fingernails and smelly clothes
What’s to stop the garbage from piling up in rows?
Who’s to handle all the folks with the tags on their toes?
Where can one go to drown away all their woes?
The next time you walk by and turn up your nose
That when it comes back down and you look around
You might have to check your nails
And take a whiff of your clothes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem