The rush


You rush to work

To work, to wait

For two years more

For your escape


You rush to work

At work with hate

If the idiot beside you

Could just dissipate


You rush to work

A little bit late

The bosses didn’t care

They’re absent, of late


You rush and rush

With quick paced gait

Your peers keep clear

No one appreciates


The hurry, the bustle

The worry, the hustle

Before someone finds

There’s no meaning in mind

The rush to work

Helped no one late

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