Every day's the same.
Coffee, black with a cigarette.
Sad that I'm still a wreck.
Mad at this little check.
Sore back from all the weight on my shoulders.
Go ahead and call that line cliché.
Hell, make it your moment.
Call me a faggot, then say it all over.
"What a progressive day. Thanks Jehovah!"
This is all odd really. We write as a hobby.
After work all day, work on the lines you're dropping.
Waiting on my Pulitzer. Where's my recognition?
Zen sucks. Stupid same rhyme schemes.
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