you'd see the men going off to work.
their lunch pails
in hand.
they looked tired already.
their faces long
and grey.
their shoulders slumped,
leaning towards
the factory gate
before the whistle blew.
was this life?
was this what tomorrow
will bring,
you buried your head in books,
and tried not to
look too hard out the window
as the bus took
you to school again.
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