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Worrying About the Little Shit

I’m not made for having a boss

Until something happens

And responsibility would break my soul.

Something always happens.

Long ago I would love it when things happened.

Now my soul is too weak and fragile.

My soul hates my worthlessness.

 

Sometimes my boss thinks I am great,

And so do I.

Sometimes my boss thinks I’m a scumbag,

And so do I.

One time my boss told me straight away,

“I’m praying for you.”

 

My boss worries about all of the little shit.

My boss never leaves before five.

My boss never misses a scratch.

My boss thinks that it is possible

That I am not perfect

And that I am tired of trying.

So I am stuck in all of the little shit.

The little shit buries my soul and my world

Is worthless.

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  1. #1 by Life: Between the lines on January 3, 2011 - 9:07 pm

    is worthless the 2011 word Carl? 😦
    I like the word play…

    • #2 by Carl on January 3, 2011 - 9:24 pm

      LOL – You caught me between the eyes on that one! I wonder if I could end everything with that 🙂

      I’ll work on that. Meaningless is more accurate. 🙂

      Thanks for stopping by!

  2. #3 by timkeen40 on January 3, 2011 - 9:22 pm

    So true, all of it. I wake every day with the same feelings of my job. It pays the mortgage. It buys the presents, but all the little shit is killing me.

    I love the poem and persepctive.

    Great post!

    • #4 by Carl on January 3, 2011 - 9:29 pm

      Thank you, Tim. I am sorry you identify with it closely. I suppose I should be opening doorways and looking for ways to pay the mortgage and be happy. Truthfully, I can’t blame it all on my job, but writing helps dilute a lot those emotions. Also, my boss is a real angel and is as nice as can be, but my gosh, the little shit is so damned important to her.

  3. #5 by timkeen40 on January 3, 2011 - 10:29 pm

    Carl,
    As a writer, I can definitely can be overly dramatic. Is my job really killing me? Maybe, but maybe not. However, all the little shit can certainly make me feel like it is, make me feel like I am tethered to the bottom of an eight toot swimming pool on an eight and a half foot rope. As long as I push really, really hard, I can keep above it all, all the while knowing I can’t keep pushing this way forever.
    Does the writing help? Oh, yes. It is the family that keeps me going first and foremost. The second one would be the writing.

    Thanks for this very engaging dialogue.

    • #6 by Carl on January 3, 2011 - 10:41 pm

      That pool picture is depressing, but it is accurate for many.

      You are right – We need family big time and people we can share with like you and I are doing, and then we write and some of the messiness leaves our heads for a while.

      Thank you for the dialogue. It helps me.

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