Honest Work

The routine fuels the lonesome

making it harder to change

this day;

again the same

trudges replace my steps

as a consequence of greying eyes

corners piercing sharp

white stone in between

I carry this smile

to hide the mystery

when joy is hidden

it must be pretended to be found

the work arduous

continuously prevailing mundane

giving out comfort amidst the rain

as honest as I try

as many hours as it takes

it still leaves me lonesome

to live another day

trying not only to fix mine

but our heartache.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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