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Work

Written in the break room waiting for the day to start.

Another day, more work.
Tiredness looms around the corner,
yet I do my duty.

People buzz around,
coming and going. 
Everyone has their own agenda,
their own mission.

Mine? To write poems. 
Data entry just fills a dull hole,
but stories and poems
fill my soul.

I watch as people watch me,
unaware that they may feature
in a story or poem.

The wet and windy day outside
just serves to inspire me more,
though I do wish the wind would shut up.

Time for work,
boredom awaits,
but at least I work,
even if it grates.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright of the author, Circle_Something, rights reserved 2020, plagiarists punished etc. Seriously though, don't steal my work, in part or in whole, nor steal my audio stories, it's just wrong, and you'll be eaten by rabid mice if you do.

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