Work In The Room Poem by RIC BASTASA

Work In The Room



THERE are whispers
sometimes i think there are ghosts
of my past
am i getting to be a scrooge
in this line of work
that i am submerged in like
a submarine
on a broken machine

It is time to go
The work is eating us all
giving us no meaning.

Thursday, June 10, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: eating,ghosts,giving,work
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RIC BASTASA

RIC BASTASA

Philippines
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