Recent threads like Anxious and Crying show that there are a lot of us out there struggling on a daily basis. I've worked for over thirty years, for several employers and have never known anything like it sometimes.
Anyway, some of you know that I like to while away the odd twenty minutes here and there waiting for my start time by sitting in my car and writing bad poetry. This is something I wrote a few weeks back and I thought I'd share it. If you like it or something resonates or even, hopefully, helps a little, then cool. If you think it's s**t or on a par with the writing skills of a five year old then that's cool too, but please try to refrain from telling me to man up, stop being dramatic or go find another job if I hate this one so much. Not because I'm so fragile that I can't take criticism, I'm just saving you the effort as my line manager will probably do all that tomorrow
Anyway, here it is if you're interested:
Doubts In My Head
He never says hello or asks how I might be,
But he always checks his watch, though I’m never late,
You’re on such and such today, goes back to ignoring me,
It’s this morning ritual that I’ve come to dread and hate.
I find the impatient stranger amongst the silent frames,
No hellos; ever done this one? They sigh,
No, sorry; feeling small beneath the hollow street names,
That’s all I need, they growl, their anger wearing no disguise.
I clear my throat, hoping not to simper, cry or quake,
How’s it looking? You see, today I gotta work to time,
Side by side with lino, asking why I have to take my breaks,
I stand firm, defend myself, as if guilty of some heinous crime.
Shared time in the van is a silent, toxic blur,
But walking the streets helps to keep me sane,
Against those that bully, hate, and treat me as cur,
We can’t complete, never could, but guess who’s the one to blame?
Home at last, amongst those I love and cherish,
Unconditional from kids and wife, a blessed sanctuary,
I hide it all, best I can, bottle it inside and wish,
To stop worrying ‘bout tomorrow and what they’ll do to me.
I’m just sat looking at my phone,
The smile is just a mask for my dread,
I feel so, so alone,
It’s just me and the gnawing doubts inside my head.
Another day, no hellos, check of the watch, it’s all the bloody same,
On your own today, a ton of mail plus a dodgy map,
You’ll complete, he says, no excuses, none of your feckless games,
Off into more unknown, inner turmoil, soul wading through the crap.
Feels like I’m drowning; I’m lost and so confused,
Where is 12a, where’s three’s letterbox, does this house even have a door?
Getting nowhere, laden with mail, despair, a heavy dose of the blues,
Try to keep fighting, so anxious, soul dropping through the floor.
Home sweet home, but I’m feeling sick, irritable and terse,
Kids and wife grate, dinner bland, the television a blank,
I can feel I’m sinking, everything getting dark like I’m carrying a curse,
Can’t block it out, make it stop; maybe some booze, maybe a trank?
I’m just sat looking at my phone,
The smile is just a mask for my dread,
I feel so, so alone,
It’s just me and the gnawing doubts inside my head.
Can’t face another day; churning, cold, I feel so bad and ill,
Phone in hand, no fight in t’other, an unbalanced scale,
They’ve ground it all down, the joy, morale and goodwill,
Why must they make me feel like this, a useless man who always fails?
Am I alone in this suffering, how many of us are there?
Walking through concrete, longing just to sleep, seek refuge in our beds,
How do they get away with it, it just doesn’t seem right nor fair,
Poison culture, filling our souls with darkness and lead.
I’m standing at the abyss, atop crumbling sands,
I must dig in, find my way back, not fold and sob in my bed,
The future seems bleak, yet it’s cradled in my trembling hands,
I must fight and vanquish those gnawing doubts in my head.
