Rubble

A skyscraper man
Tugging levers with lanky arms
Sends wrecking balls,
Flailing naively.
Earplugs deafen destruction.
Goggles haze his satisfying sight.
A crumbled mess; a job well done!

Clocking out he meets a man,
With soot-covered face and black-suited belly.
Sorry words are exchanged with fake remorse,
Our tall friend is fired by the round neckless boss.

Payments and taxes all amass
To hit the man hard, hard in the gut.
His stomach goes first, turning inward in pain.
Knees crash to the ground,
Crippled by debt.
Our friend’s back tumbles next,
Then his head gradually slumps in his shame.
A crumbled mess.