I haven’t said a word,
I really don’t want to be heard.
I’ll suffer as well,
seemingly swell,
Thing can only get hoard.
I haven’t earn a cracker,
worked till my skin was leather,
took all the grief,
to the bosses relief,
I didn’t court them in the county clacker.
I haven’t slept with any,
make love or indulge in plenty,
my focus stays on,
My mother not wrong,
goto pick the one that saintly.
I pray to be fed again,
although breathing still remain.
with each waking breath,
I reach in with zest,
and God has so forth sustain.