The air creeps through the rooms
Like cold dead air through tombs
Faded fluorescent light presses their backs
Notes of encouragement hung with tacks
Toiling among the paper and the ink
And the stale, lifeless cardboard stink
It's hard to stir the listless mind
To imagine, to dream beyond the grind
It is life to resist, revolt and rebel
It is death to conform to this hell.

04/12/2006

Posted on 04/12/2006
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