I know I look like numbers to you,
but I’m not.
I’m flesh and blood,
a complex being with complex needs.
I need a paycheck,
that sheet of paper you provide every two weeks,
that strips from your coffers.
That hurts your bottom line.
I work hard for you.
I leave my children for ten hours a day to work for you.
I do soul-draining, mind-numbing data entry for you.
All I ask is for my loyalty to be returned.
All I ask is to be able to live and provide.
Provide for my family.
While you cut us back,
and line your pockets.