Round and round and round we go
A high trip hitting turbulence, into the low
And behold, many years traveled, many years ago
Thought the seeds had sprouted, but you forgot to sow
The torn jeans, exposing your roots
You asked for help, but your request was mute,
Irrelevant – behave and focus on your work
Not on the scars and tears, but on the field
It’s not so bad, after all, food is a nice perk
But what happens when there is no yield?
When the planters more derelict than the plants?
Who is there to enjoy these spoils?
The underground bodies? Or perhaps the ants?
Nothing can grow from abused soil. 
But round and round and round we go. 
Making the same mistakes, and the same people show
Enthused to work, an ignorant sacrifice
For the greedy abusers, sitting atop a vice.