H.J. Shreeve (26/5/1987 / Hobart, Tasmania)
Does my confidence unnerve you,
Can you feel me in your gut?
I know you think I'm ugly,
But I know you all want to F...
You can not tell me how to cut my hair.
Whatever you think, I couldnt care.
I can not give you an E.T.A.
On how long my next bowel movement will take.
I went to the toilet, to cough up the cakes you baked.
I don't want to know about your husbands cousins son.
Your families, pathetic, your children, dumb.
Is there a company policy for scratching my a..?
Is there any way I can take a pass?
How many fucking times do I have to hear,
About your rules, standards, Based in fear.
I spend my days watching the clock,
the tic is my pain, the sorrow clunk of the toc.
I am a slave to money,
A slave to the blind,
A slave to the banker,
A slave to modern decor.
Comments about this poem (My Collegues by H.J. Shreeve )
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