Calloused hands cracked and bleeding

Ne’er a chance to heal

Family counting on the sweat of labor

For sustenance

And a roof overhead

Nothing more matters in this world

Molten steel pays the bills

Scalded skin and blisters overtime

And he’ll go it again tomorrow

The mill a second home

Thirty years, a day never missed

But what matter does it make

Pink slips are coming

Jobs moving overseas

Loyalty counts for nothing these days

Just a number easily erased

Profits put ahead of people

Born of cheaper labor in the Far East

Silence over dinner

Uncertainty an unwelcomed guest

Visits every evening

Wifes eyes offer comfort

Hidden deep, she knows there is none

How to go on

Everything lost

Skilled to do little else

Some would call this progress

Another unnamed martyr

Of the corporate machine

~~ D. R. DiFrancesco ~~