Some folks yell or scream, they argue and rage,
Others give off the silent shoulder.
At work, in the office, it seems a regular duty,
To be the person that’s colder.
Making trivial important, giving substance to nothing,
To paint others in a horrible light.
Then informing the boss of these whimsical robes,
To satisfy their own personal spite.
The worst of the rage, the most cutting of tactics,
Is when they silently slip to the side.
Their hands go to their mouth, whispering most potent,
Exclusive eyes becoming mortified.
These murmurs and gossip, the sighs and the tone,
Every little bit of insinuation.
They don’t make for a productive, happy, healthy workplace,
Instead creating acrimonious oppugnation.
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