Walk Home With the Dark

Yeah. Some men build the daylight. Then walk home with the dark.

Morning breaks like a split knuckle. Coffee tastes like borrowed time. Boots know every

inch of this ground. While the sun still acts surprised to rise.

I carry a weight I never chose. Count the cost in lingering pain.

They say the job has an end point. But the body keeps the blame.

Paper don't bend, don't shake, don't bleed. But flesh remembers everything.

The world never clocked in. But it clocks me out. Takes what it

needs. Leaves me worn down. Every streetlight knows my name.