When your body isn't yours anymore

You give your working limbs to a corporation, Allow them to put a dollar amount on your time, Force your teeth to smile

While they're grinding harder than your feet.

Your templed body is handled like plastic packaged meat,

But don't bleed in front of the customers, Don't scream in front of anyone,

Stay silent.

Stay shuffling your soles across the tile floor, Keep moving your sore legs, Until they say otherwise.

When you get home,

You are not yet granted the permission to rest, First you have to speak at your best, Greet your man with a bare chest, And warm arms.

Kiss him,

Tell him how much you missed him, Before you breathe deeply and shut yourself away for only a second,

Try to guess how his day went without you.