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
Copyright © Yvette Naden | Year Posted 2019
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