(This is a work of make-believe only, like all other poems. It is not real or related to myself.)
This deadend job of mine
Is toiling ahead in the pursuit of despair
Self casting into storm holes of guilt and shame
No shades of questions to contemplate
Or room to argue for an “okay”
Or truth to obey by papered black and whites
Sent snapshots probably for the display, oh hey!
The high nose pride chauvinistic boss
The colleagues selfish to consider a foot
The welfare system is a show of face
Procedures a mess of organized games
Employees hammered on carded disgrace
Deadend, deadend
Dead to the end and chained to the desk
Can’t attain potential figure growing sales
Lose the mark of your future so quickly down ladder
Soul-blind and salary baited one continues
When all happiness does and cries Gawd, I’m so confused!
- Vander
Disclaimer: All poetry and fiction here are original material written by Vander. Please note that all text references, descriptions and indications are purely fictional (make-believe if you didn’t know what fiction is!) and is in no relation to any actual entities).