Eternal Industrialist Battle (day 165)

~ in struts the guardian ~

Work your tired little fingers
You ungrateful minions
We pay you not good enough
We demand the most of your work
And rarely applaud your efforts

But dammit! Do more work!
You’re not even sweating
And the look on your face
Doesn’t really portray the size
Of the mound I just dumped on your desk

Please, make sure this problem is eliminated
You rather hopeless child
I’m not sure I can look at you
As you sit there in your hallow
For god sakes, liven things up around here!

~ and out comes the demon ~

I sit here quietly
Constantly assuring
These working conditions
Will for-surely be changed
I dream of masochism
Or voodoo tactics
Going AWOL on this monitor
Blinking as rapidly as your ideas change
Morphing my own ideas
Into schemes of your own
Taking all our own
Efforts for granted
Feeling no guilt
At the abuse of your power
You won’t last long, asshole
At the rate you’re going.

~ silence, carry on ~

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