Poem: Work

When I hear the word
WORK
What does that really
Means to me

Work is something
I do not enjoy
It is something that
Would kill me
From the inside out

Then I have family
Telling me to go
Find a job
Do something
To earn money
So I can live
On my own

But the word
Job and work
Is just telling me
I need to make
Money to live
But shouldn’t I be
Doing something
That I love and
Would spend the rest
Of my days doing
And people pay me
For something I love doing
Instead of trying to
Find someone to
Pay me just
To do something for them

I am a creator
Of things that make
The mind think
Not someone who
Willingly give her life away
To do things
That doesn’t make
Someone feel any
Emotions or even
Make them take
A minute to
THINK

Does the word
Work
Really means anything other
Then doing a job
For someone else
And trying so hard
To gain money
To live
When a person
Could do what they love
And breathe and wake
Doing something that brings
Them great joy
And for such joy
People would beg
To spread that joy
To millions
Instead of setting
Behind a desk
And wasting away
Doing something that
Doesn’t mean anything
To you
It’ll be just
Work that you
Gain money to get by

But when in reality
If you do something
You love
You would go a day
Without living life
To the fullest
And then being able to
Put a roof over your head
With love of
Something so great
That it could never
Be called
WORK.

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