The Workaholic

The Workaholic

Philosophers preach of the fine line
Between love and hate
It's a fair comparison, I think
When I look at us.

Day in day out I devote myself to you
And yet your rewards are meagre.
Dedication counts for nothing
In your calculating heart.

Yet I cannot survive without you.
I am dependent, needy of you
You give me the security I crave
Yet our future is always uncertain.

Some people tell me to let go
Others understand my passion.
You provide me with all I need
I live to work, not work to live.