Dead on Arrival

My job is a death sentence
I can’t think for thyself
My job is a murderer
To my creativity
It makes me tense
There is no wealth
There is no treasure
There is no vitality
It kills me from the inside out
Also from the outside in
Is there a way out?
Will I ever win?
This job I don’t matter
I have fallen off the ladder
Everytime I go I am in misery
There is no possibilities
Dead on arrival
I pray to God for a chance of survival.

 
Posted in Workrant.

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