Workless

"Did Shakespeare have a job? ...are they still hiring?"

- someone desperate

Experience : I once worked a solid hour trying to resize the date on a particular piece, and then I scrapped the whole piece and started all over.

Skills : Oh, my skills? Well, you see, I suppose...you could say I have a knack for knowing where the comma goes.

Walking down the street, there's a woman 

to my left, selling fruit

She's smack on the ground

I reason, in more ways than one 

It hurts to look at her, 

soiled feet, hardened by the sun. 

This wasn't the life she chose, was it? 

On my right is a young man, chopping and weighing meat

Did he sit in school one day, 

snap his fingers and say 

That's it, that's my dream

I am not callous 

It occurs to me there are ends to meet

And mouths to feed

I'm just afraid, of my dreams dying 

a slow and painful death

The path of success feels like a subtle threat

Of anguish, of regret

And still, time is running out on me

Very soon I'll have to turn myself in

To the authorities 

Settling on a career feels like 

picking out a coffin

Which box shall I bury my dreams in?