colouring in

This broken crayon
Still draws, still colours.

Limp in through the front door
Still aching, still sore
Drop my bag on the floor
Dinner in alfoil.

Heat and eat
Eye lids drop
Head falls to the side
Living the dream.

Make the money
Lose the time
Feed the hungry
Starve myself.

One sided life
Life’s not fair
And then we die
For reasons unknown.

Sit out the back
With the dog
Just to be told
I’m too distant.

This broken boy
Now a broken man
Soon to be
A broken old man.

The kids will forget
The hours I worked
The kids will forget
Their dear old Dad.

I will break silently
I will buckle in whispers
I will transfer money
Without question.

Poor rich old man
With everything to lose.

The day comes to a close
This life comes to a close
But this shattered crayon
Still colours, still draws.

colouring in

kromwellfarkus

Joined November 2010

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