Work

Yet still I work.

The sun stares down onto me.
My eyes burn as I screech a silent yawn.
Daylight giggles merrily as it roasts my skin,
Reminding me that work must be done.
My legs scrape across the ground,
Yet still I walk.
My hands lie bloody and broken,
Yet still I fight.
Ooze drips from my lips,
Yet still I scream.
I suppose I'll sleep in my dreams.