Hate this job

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Hate this job

I dont want be here
I just want to be there
Home where belong
Instead i'm sitting in this broke chair!
Can't go anywhere
Two fifteen minute breaks
one fourty five minute lunch
Man what i'm gonna do?
I think i got a hunch!
Maybe i should quit...
NAH!
Maybe get another job
Maybe i should sell my car
My wife will think i'm crazy huh?
Its just so stressful!
If its not just the nasty customers and their attitudes
Management will have more beef than a pattie do.
And when it comes schedules
I got the schedule blues
you ask for accomodations
And they tryin to flex their muscles
They say be gone if you don't like
Man this job bites!
If this job was a man
I would have my rifle ready for the snipe!
You know what i ain't going out like this
No way i'm gonna quit
To much to be happy for
Plue with this economy this who can afford to quit!
Not me thats for Sure!






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Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

cppoetry’s Poems (3)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Trials and Tragedy 1
Hate this job 0
I want to write poems for you 3