ENG226 poem 4 - For food to drunks will not go out of...

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Megan Wauschek Sonnet I Hate My Job  Feel it nagging the moment you wake up five to ten, time to park the car and walk. Clock in, punch numbers like an old trained pup,  plates could get more clean with a dirty sock.  Door chimes in people you must attend to swipe credit cards but not without a smile, grill, serve, these pitas never seem to end.
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Unformatted text preview: For food to drunks will not go out of style. Counting down the minutes, hours, seconds, Just mop and chop and scrub to stay awake. Of course a task done wrong the boss beckons, No best of this instance for you to make. The clock strikes four! Ill slave no more you said. Clocking out feels almost as good as bed....
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