The Work I Hate Poem by Scott McQueen

Could it be so? Is my end this near?
Is that the carriage of Death I hear?
No, it can't be. I've wasted no time.
I did not play or have a good time

I worked and I toiled, day in and day out
I gave not a whimper, I did not pout
So why does Death draw ever faster?
What treachery's this? I must speak to his Master

Maybe that's it; that must be the answer
The toil I've done is simply cancer
All the work that I've done in this lifetime
Has create a tumor, filled with lost time

Planted in the plains of cowardice
Sewn into the soil of avarice
Watered by my lonely tears
Grown under a Sun of broken cheer

The work that I've done was meaningless
For it did not yield for me happiness
I wasted my life working for pain
I did work that I hated and saw no gain