Dustin Triplett
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Poetry

A Life Stolen (2017)

They say work is not meant to be fun

But instead a way to make ends meet

Although when those ends fail to meet

We awaken to bodies laying in the street

Alive as their hopes are dead

Grim reminders of the anxieties within their heads

Irregularly clicking like a broken clock

The hatred never fully stops

Get a job little boy

Or you will never acquire little toys

But what if you already have the greatest toy of all

It doesn’t matter, for it is broken

It is an armless, cracked skull of the husk

Of a life stolen