A Well Worn Handle
tools that begat blisters, mere detritis now
stories of sweat, dripping with blood
the tales they tell, I'll miss'em somehow
with their leaving, tears in a flood
once a king's ransom, earning their keep
coaxing from earth, tuition's gold
leaving for a pittance, not yet to sleep
slaveholder I feel, uttering your sold
stephen
2 comments:
I know how that feels. I had to close my business after ten years of blood, sweat, and tears. Oh, I was making money. I was supporting my family, and paying the taxes. However, I was killing myself with the hours I had to spend at it. I couldn't afford to hire any more help, because the damned state kept raising fees, and permits, and all sorts of crap. Without a couple more bodies, I couldn't keep at it, so I had to lock the doors and walk away.
That alone darned near did me in. But I cur the overhead by working out of the house, and that, after a good break, let me get back on my feet and try again. That's the beauty of this nation. The right to try, and tyhe right to fail and try again.
I just wish the gubbmint would figure out that the best way to generate tax income is to cut the tax rate and let capitalism work.
Ah well. My condolences, brother.
Tim. DO. NOT. GET. ME. STARTED. ON. EMPLOYEES.
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