Hating me own kind… the blood that rushes through my veins, other black people, and most definitely my Hardee’s uniform; to think red and black are my favorite colors. Six Dollar Clowns… I don’t want to be one; personally I hope they see this, to be fired.
Ha Ha, Oh boy
Or girl
Really the whole damn world
What will it be sir
Voices and noise
Laughing and snacking
Is it not enough?
Maybe I’m just not tough
It’s all just too much
My soul is cracking
They’re attacking
Employers yes
Employees a mess
Guests
My soul, shattering
It’s too much
The noise
No joy
Call me a scared little boy
As you serve and eat your mush
Wearing tin grins
Throwing away your trash
Blow it out your ass
And you wonder why I’m sad
Because in the end…
To shout out
I can only stand around
Be bound
Another one of you six dollar clowns
Early clock out
Six dollar clown
But I’m not happy
It’s maddening
Working for Hardee’s
A fool, a lose, a nothing, I wear a frown
Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.
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