his hands filled
with callouses, dirt,
all the while
shaking but never
letting hands go.
Arched and tarnished
his back is,
screw barely loosed,
patch up wounded,
must carry on.
Legs and feet
creaking on the joints
keeping on rolling
society and cogs
sweat stained soles
tired and unforgiven
geared up brimming
asking and seeking
will things end?
The souless breath
filled to brim
with endless toil
the rope was
all there is
and nothing more.
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