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March 7, 2011 / justinbatalden

Graveyard Shift

A constant sound of metal
Metal clanging down cutting
The constant whine of air
Air sucking in the plastic dots
The never-ending searing headache
Headache from the stimulation of noise
The insistent drooping eyes
Eyes of begging sleep from the inviting dark.
The relentless nagging employer
Employer encouraging workers from a chair.
This is what they call a graveyard shift,
I call it hell shift with a side of money.

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2 Comments

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  1. justinbatalden / Mar 12 2011 1:44 PM

    This poem is really crappy don’t judge. I was just bored at work one day and decided to write it. Really bad poem

  2. charlesmashburn / Sep 20 2011 7:57 PM

    Awesome poem! I remember the graveyard shift, and this says it perfectly. Very well done!

    http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2011/09/19/fragile-cloth-2/

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