Workaholic Poem by Micronjan (Micron)

I admit it—workaholic, that's me,
Though I'm not quite sure why it's so, you see.
I love the work I do each day,
Though to most, that might sound a strange way.

Microscopes take me to worlds unseen,
Places unheard of, rare and keen.
Yes, I bring my work home, it's true,
But it doesn't mean I'm sad or blue.

We spend so much of our lives at our trade,
I'm lucky my passion and work are made.
So a workaholic, perhaps, I may be,
But don't feel sorry—it's simply part of me.