My Empire of Dirt

When I was ten, my dad handed me a shovel.
He told me, “This will keep you out of trouble,
And although this life is going to hurt,
This is how you build your empire of dirt.”

I soon traded my shovel forward.
I would rather rattle the keyboard,
Than dig in the mines all day.
Despite my father making a living that way.

My computer turned into a degree.
I thought, “They will be proud of me.”
Breaking tradition!  Breaking the cycle!
To me, these things, you entitle.

While I built this temple of knowledge,
They were the ones paying for my college.
I ignored all of their hurt,
And watched as they dug deeper,
Their empire of dirt.