𝐼'𝑀 𝒜𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒯𝑜 𝒬𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝒥𝑜𝒷

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔

The clock ticks slow, a weary drone,

My soul is frayed, my spirit flown.

This sparks, a gilded cage,

Where dreams are stifled, hopes engage.

In silent, futile, whispered fight,

Against the endless, weary night.

The boss, a tyrant, cold and stark,

His words like daggers, in the dark.

Deadlines loom, a looming dread,

My sanity, a fragile thread.

Pissed off at this worksite is grimy, sweltering, & frustrating,

A story of a spirit sold.

My patience frayed, a tattered sheet,

My temper flares, a fiery heat.

This job, a burden, heavy weight,

I'm losing grip, I'm losing state.

This system, broken, flawed, and weak,

I'm about to quit, and start to speak.

My sanity's a shattered glass,

I'm losing it, I'm losing mass.

This place, a pit, a festering sore,

I'm about to quit, and slam the door.

My spirit crushed, my will subdued,

I'm about to quit, and be renewed.

No more this grind, this endless chase,

This soul-crushing, weary pace.

I'm about to quit, and finally flee,

From this relentless misery.

This job, a tomb, a hollow shell,

I'm about to quit, and rise from hell.