Blue color worker

These are men,
nothing more, no-thing less.
Flesh and bone, hand-blown
by the breath of the wind.

Catch the drift.

Money is only valuable
when you have nothing to begin with.
We got head starts on addictions,
prisons, and dead ended routes.

It has taught us how to live
with faded lipstick on our cheeks
and purple hearts.

The world is a stage
we play our parts,
if only for an instant.

They say play your heart out,
I coughed it onto my palm,
and started boxing with the beat,
strumming my aorta to the song
of rhythmic feet.

We will dance,
until the sun don't shine
on our burnt backs
and calloused hands.

To the beat, we keep.

Listen'in.