To make ends meet

I wake to a world of relentless demand,

Trading my dreams for the bosses hand.

Each step I take, a hollow beat,

A march through days that repeat, repeat.

The clock is a tyrant, it chimes and it calls,

Its echo resounds through factory walls.

Tasks I detest, yet still I comply,

Not for passion, but the need to get by.

A soul confined in the shadow of need,

Planting no roots, yet sowing the seed.

This isn't the life I envisioned to lead,

But hunger and bills do not heed a creed.

I wear the mask, my heart concealed,

In the marketplace where nothing is real.

Smiles are sold and pride is leased,

Bartered away for the scraps of there feast.

Though weary, I labor, my spirit protests,

Chasing a dream that poverty tests.

Yet within the drudgery, sparks still ignite,

A glimmer of hope in the long, dark night.

For though the days feel cruel and grim,

I hold to a faith, however dim.

That one day these chains will finally break,

And life will be mine, to mold and make.

So onward I toil, though it cuts to the bone,

In a world that demands, yet leaves me alone.

But within me, a whisper, defiant and sweet—

Someday, somehow, I’ll make ends meet.