Oh, data entry job,
you steal my soul,
drain my life-force
deplete my will
steal my essence.
I feel trapped
all alone.
Drowning in numbers
letters
insignificant structures
that perpetuate false positives
‘perfect’ structures
laughably imperfect
false helpfuls
that do more harm
empty promises
of a corporate ladder
that’s surmountable
by hard work,
long hours,
determination,
sweat…
I’ve cried the tears,
yet I’m still here
I’ve gone nowhere
not up,
maybe sideways
in weight gained,
bottles drunk,
as I lay out splayed
in a stupor.
Cried tears,
ignored depression,
a sadness covered up
by psychedelic prints
an alcoholic’s buzz
a bank account balance
that’s not negative.
I’m trapped.
I’m angry.
I’m tired.
I’m scared
of a youth wasted
in a pit of hate
in raw self-fladulation
BUT
at least i’m in
my jammies,
safe,
and employed,
at home.
Caia Rose 