Slow Death Poem by Lamar Cole

Slow Death



He would never have any wealth.
He worked a factory job that was slow death.
His boss was a pain in the butt.
This caused him to always be in a rut.
He did not see for himself a happy future.
He was a broken man held together by sutures.

Wednesday, July 10, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: people
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success