For People Who Write Poetry

The clock is running
But time is up
Times have been churning
Enough is enough
Together so long
I say to this place
Forever be gone
Standing in dismay
I look for the love
But it's far to late
Went away like a dove
That just hit a large gate
Falling to shatter
Your hand in mine
only wish that matters
Is the wish to turn time.
 
Work is such a bore.
I decided to call it quits.
For its I who sees no intentions of the position of value that consist of labor hardship, I will never get sore.
I'm not questionable towards the deception of stupidity.
Nothing beats free time.
A time to do nothing, a time to catch up some serious sleep.
I will be sitting in a hammock free of work and I'll be sucking off the rest of those limes.
I will drive a jeep.
That's the only way to get bye.
Lazy is the only thing I see.
I'm a human being living in a slacker mortality.
It's not of course hostility.
Sleep sleep oh just slack it up.
Shut the blinds and fall back to sleep, jump into the bed covers.
For its all I ever dream someday...
 
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