I am opening iron doors
In keeping this furnace alive,
I shovel bales of coal.
A hellish delta burns
casting its warming glow,
seeping through my very bones.
The steam pressure rises
by the delta (as I shovel coal)
the furnace greedy,
bakes my bones
as I feed it there.
Life seems to silently pass me by
while I bury myself in work,
as feeding the furnace of my soul
begins to wreak its toll.
Let me know How this makes you feel, what do you think?
Comments
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Wonderful
Very creative and well done. Thank you for sharing
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