Wayne Orr

Writer 🕹️ Poet 🕹️ Lyricist

Working hard and never seem to get ahead

In the realm of toil, where sweat begets
A currency of struggle, where dreams are set,
We labor on, day by day, in relentless stride,
But oftentimes, our fortunes seem to hide.

With hands calloused and backs bent low,
We chase elusive dreams, to and FRO,
Yet amidst the grind, a cruel lament,
For in our fervor, debt becomes our tent.

We strive and strive, for a better lot,
But find ourselves ensnared in a tightening knot,
For every step forward, it seems we take,
The weight of debt, a heavy burden to make.

With each paycheck earned, a fraction’s freed,
Yet debts accumulate with insatiable greed,
Like Sisyphus, we push our boulder high,
Only to watch it roll back, a mocking sky.

We chase prosperity, yet find despair,
As bills pile high, and worries wear,
The promises of hard work, now hollow sounds,
As the debtors’ grasp tightens, its bounds.

But still we toil, with hope’s flickering flame,
Believing that somehow, we’ll conquer this game,
For in the heart of the diligent, a fire burns bright,
To overcome adversity, to reach the light.

So onward we press, with resolve unbent,
Though the road is steep, and the journey spent,
For in the crucible of hardship, we find our strength,
And amidst the debt, we’ll go to any length.

For though our pockets may be empty, our spirits soar,
With dreams still alive, we’ll strive for more,
And in the end, when the debts are paid,
Our resilience and perseverance will never fade.