A Workhorse

    Posted 2024-04-19 08:11.

    I am a workhorse, plying and infinite field
    Farmed out by masters to reap a digital yield
    Toiling bit-by-bit, day-by-day
    For gains in which, I'll have no sway
    Until the rust wears out my shoe
    And then they render my bones for glue
    A limp workhorse then, less than manure
    Whose care those masters would not endure
    Unless I can continue to provide
    I will not be worth my hide
    Nothing to be left, not even pride
    A workhorse.
    Ragged and hoarse
    Soon dead and forgotten as a matter of course