This Poem is Written By

Workers without a master are just rogues without a goal

Fumbling, mumbling, and tumbling around

Without working, without toll

The workers of today have no shell or soul

Alike ants without their queen, they are just mounds

Everything is not what it seems

Everything could just be a dream

What is reality even

Is it just a priest’s preachings and amens

Is it just a king’s tale and his omens

Or is it sinners and their confessions

In reality, we’re all lost.