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Poem: The Life of Cogs

The night air tastes like industry
Carbon monoxide and ozone
Even at night when the workers sleep
It hangs in the empty streets
Filling the lungs of the people
With the work they left behind
Sitting at bars filling themselves
With a different poison to forget
The toxic environment waiting
In sunlight viewed from half closed eyes
Throbbing brains that are thankful
They can go through the motions
Like the churning machines
That have become their brothers
In the shared monotony of labor

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.


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