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A rhyming poem describing how my job feels to me at the moment. |
| A shift at work so meaningful Is once again filled with loneliness. My daily goals seem incorrigible In this useless span of timeliness. I tweak and twitter the hours away Crafting possible good and hope, Alone and haunted, and ashamed to say, With no class in my world, I feel like a dope… Then comes the time when I do something great Which I truly feel isn’t spectacular – Appearing so timely, it might clear the slate, But no friends or foes, how peculiar… Work doesn’t nurture or nurse the fledgling With some extravagant, daily thrills; It’s filled with the use of makeshift handling So that everyone’s paying their bills. So for the young man wishing a pay-off Comes the pressure of losing a job – When the usefulness ends, a possible lay-off, For using sharpness and talent as a doorknob… |