No Rest, No Thanks

I scrub, I sweep, I bend, I break,

Yet all this job does is take.

Three stairwells cleaned, three times a week,

Four floors vacuumed, no time to breathe.

Windows streaked with dust and grime,

Handrails wiped a second time.

The laundry room, the vacant space,

I rush, I race, no breathing space.

Midnight hours, aching bones,

Yet no one sees, I’m still alone.

One tenant out, one moving in,

No time to pause, just scrub again.

Winter’s weight, the shovel’s bite,

Salt and sand from dawn till night.

Summer’s broom, the sweat I shed,

A hundred spots, my back near dead.

No thanks, no rest, just more demands,

No helping voice, no guiding hands.

I don’t know yet where I will land,

But change must come, it’s close at hand.

March 14, 2025