Corporate Hell | Pessimist Poetry

Fall from grace with all but good intentions,

clambering about in the sinkhole sucking me down

Stabbed in the back by those I held in esteem,

thoughts turn to my fading sense of worth

 

Pull me under,

The dearth of oxygen leads to irrational thought as mud thickens like a fury of emotion lodged in the throat

 

Does it hurt?

Ask Caesar, lying in a pool of his own blood

Birds of a feather if they were plucked bare,

leaving a shivering mess of flesh and bone fearful of further scrutiny

 

Pull me under,

as I succumb to the manipulation and ulterior motives of my superiors.

 

Pessimist Poet’s Words for Thought

“For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.” -Suzanne Collins

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