We work for an hourly wage
Excited for retirement age
In the blink of an eye
We get sick and we die
Never breaking free from our cage
About the Creator
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Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandella day ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Well not me, but yeah.. what's wrong with people!? Society is sick.