First Job

First Job Walking on eggshells for hours on end, I took steps on glass panels. Always in the wrong Direction, though I was never told which way to Tread. Co-workers cherry-picking even though we were all Paid the same. Not wanting to be the one on our supervisor’s Walk of blame. Every day wishing the clocks would rapid fire Chiming on the hour in succession. Home-time; it never came fast enough to Stop the tears in my eyes. In a perpetual state of feeling weak, unworthy, I wanted to crawl back into bed. To shut the world out, Slam the door and pull the covers up over my Head. Emile Pinet Give Me Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest 15th October 2019