Wounds open, blood splats across the floor as if water
As though the body was now marshmallow and
Cuts were only softened to pain, mellow must not be felt.
How does it feel when you’ve worked so hard,
Gave it all and everything else
But failed at your job.
In a day’s letter for you to sign by office time,
You had to verify your failure with the heart
Nipped into a thousand cuts by your signature hand.
Binding it right into a buried shame.
So I went home, gashed my fingers open with scissors,
Fingers that held that mouse with that click a submit.
Where blood ran as though forever
Leaking onto anywhere it could land.
And then there it was, those open wounds
That could only wait for time not to repeat again.
Months away from August, countdown to resignation.
1, 2, 3, cold faces of corporate protocol will rework
Rewire old clocks with the bureau of compliance.
What is competence?
A sad place to be like everybody else,
To please a straight serve to get approved.
I look at the red under the skin which oozes on pressure,
Pressure which is set to burst the emergency bags of O+ and bad emails.
Is this the heyday death by a thousand cuts?
Adhere work for improvement,
To improve on superb work, for what?
- 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).
