by Sam Battig


I guess I was born to be intoxicated with hope;

Sometimes it’s a journey most of the time –

It’s just a bad joke.


And every day it gets less and less exciting;

I would make a difference,

But I’m busy faking this.


Instead of trying,

Change my shift from now to never,

And I’ll pretend I’m fine.


Why am I always stuck at the shitty end of the assembly line?



I met Sam at Bank of America,  where he works as a teller.  I see him almost every day.  He is a hard worker, efficient and amicable.  He is well-liked and respected by his colleagues.

I recently learned that he is an aspiring poet.  He leaves his poems on the desks of his co-workers in an attempt to encourage them and brighten their day.  With Sam’s permission I am posting his work for a wider audience.

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