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| Photo by Andrew Neel via Pexels |
Holy Macaroni
*This is dedicated to my coworker.
She has read it and says, “I’d put that on a t-shirt.”*
I just want to run away. I just
want to quit.
This place saps my energy bit by
bit by bit.
Here runs a near-constant current
of distress.
It must be a lot like a
bogeyman’s caress.
This place taints my spirit. It
makes my soul wilt.
It makes me feel threadbare like
an over-washed quilt.
I want to have a meltdown. I want
to throw a fit.
Holy macaroni, I’m so sick of this
sh*t.
The weekends speed by like the
speed of light.
Weeks at this place are like a
growing blight.
Stress fills my daytime and my
nights with angry dreams
That burst with obscenities at
megaphone screams.
A mere vacation is laughable; that
won’t do,
Nor will a staycation or a new
pair of shoes.
Get us out of here. Get us out
quick
Before this crazy to us does stick!
WOW!!! This poem is incredible and describes not only your workplace but the place I worked for 22 years! How I wish I'd thought to put words to feelings about my workplace, instead of just holding the hurt inside. Love it, Lisa. Thank you, JoAnn Lower
ReplyDeleteThank you, JoAnn! Until now, I've not been one to speak so baldly about a workplace, past or present. It was a weighted step, but a right one, one that I needed to take. And, even then, I've been as professional as possible, not naming the business, any names or the type of work that I do.
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