The Land of Fatigue

I am done
With living here
In this land of fatigue
Where the payment is so high
For such little return
Where conditions are rough-
Nothing exciting happens
And everything looks the same.
Plus, after living here
For over a year
Still noone has given me
A map of the place
Or shown me
The route out.
If there even is one.

And you work to the bone
Day after day,
No matter if
The sun shines
Or the wind howls,
If there's a celebration
Or a mourning.
There is no holiday here,
No respite
No time to draw breath
Or wild parties
After a hard week's graft.

Although....
Every so often,
On a lucky day,
You can see chinks of light
Slicing through
The dark boxes of days.

These moments,
That catch you unaware
And give you small smiles,
Help you hold on
And remind you
That the light is always there.
The sun always rises
And there is always
A new day
No matter where you live.