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…
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