So I guess it is
safe to say that my project has rather fallen apart. I assure you this wasn’t
my intention, but the past month I have been rather exhausted. Not to mention
that studying for the Linux+ exam was much more taxing than I had expected—in
fact, I pushed back the test because of that—causing my to spend my off time
absorbing the information as opposed to being objective enough to critique
anything. Well the past four days didn’t make matters much better. Although I
knew it was coming, emotionally I wasn’t prepared for it; I found out on
Thursday—before a three-day weekend no less—when my current stint at Nookland
would be coming to an end. It just so happens to occur two days after my
Thirtieth Birthday. Sufficed to say, the rage I have been feeling the past
three days hasn’t exactly made me feel all that creative—allowing me to finally
understand why Metal, Thrash and Grunge were ever forms of music. Most of what
I tried to compile was mostly jibberish, except for what I am about to upload
today (on a day before work). Parts of what I am above to type came to me in
fragments while I was in the gym and hit me throughout the day as I attempted
to study (although I wound up watching more “Star Trek: Voyager” and “Linkara”
reviews than actually studying). Then, just as I was about to nod off for the
night, this damn thing wouldn’t let me sleep. Believe it or not I have a poem
to share. So let’s stop fucking around and get to it so I can finally sleep. He
it is:
“Scapegoats for Hire” By Yours Truly
You say we’re needed
Yet
we’re the first to cut off
You say you need our help
But
you give it to us in return
You praise us for our knowledge
Though
you claim we don’t know enough
You have no idea what we do
Yet
you say we don’t do enough
You ask for a “favour”
But
you have no idea what the word even means
We
do
Your hypocrisy is apparent
Even
when we spell it out to you
Your problems
Your Incompetence
Become
our problems
Our
Impotence
You are the capitals of the
Mid-Level
We
are the bottom rung
You don’t the point of existence
The
feeling is mutual
You don’t think you need us
If
only to serve as you Scapegoats for Hire
I’ll admit, it is
probably obvious what I am writing about, considering where I work and the
circumstance befallen upon me; however I am certain this could apply to any
situation.
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