Isnt it great to work so late?
Upon this date, we create our fate.

Sacrifice roll the dice.

Create value as winners do.
Just as the little boy blue.

Machines cry for the one guy.
Whom makes loss say "Good Bye".

Screams are heard in the plain absurd.

Light to dark
finish to start

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem