Analysis of Working

So tired, going to find me a chair.
Then look off into nothing, and stare and stare
I can feel every beat of my heart
Never, no end to work, goes on even in the dark.
Can I make it one more day?
He is broken, beaten; so everyone say.
My bones wear out from the outside in,
If I do sit, I have to get right back up again.
Stomach hurts, just a hollow pit.
Mouth so day, can't even work up spit.
My cheeks are flushed,
My hair unbrushed.
Eyes sunk back into the socket
Got to get from here to there, fast -- like a rocket.
Knees sharp with pain, same with my back.
Still pushing forward to take up the slack.
Trying to be so much to so many.
Even with overtime, not enough left to feed a bunny.
Feet! Hurt, swollen! They flat and wide.
Put them in a separate box when I die.