248 (street rats)

It was Friday night for most of the world
And my stomach nearly tore open, according
To the pattern on the floor, bloody paws,
Telling me I don't want to work anymore
As the lowest paid artist on earth.
I want to go outside and help the lonely,
Poorly clothed rats with inadequate diets
Having trouble with their sleep patterns.
They're getting cold and I wonder what we'll
All be doing in the moments when they die.

 
Written by Mr Woods on 05/01/18
© 2018 Anthony Woods

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night, earth, sleep, work, Friday

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