Skin leathery, yellowed and tarred.
Backs bent, worn and curved.
Stooped figures, warped with time:
Cautious, pensive trudges forth.
Voices call out numbers over and over.
They wait accordingly, unhappily,
Yet well-trained.
Well, used to being
Paid off in breadcrumbs
As they nibble and nark
While time tumbles by
And they
Crumble away.
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