Itch

Like a wasp, my conscience stings at the back of my neck
causing a slight feeling of disgust to settle in
the obvious discomfort shows on my face
thinly veiled by a facade of contentment
that furious feeling still shines through
like a diamond nestled tightly in a bag of rocks
i try to keep it buried beneath the ruins
my anger picks at me like an emotional buffet
each helping gets smaller and smaller
the food constantly grows colder
and each bite is harder to swallow than the last
my cup of animosity runneth over
and it's spilling all over me
meanwhile the still waters of patience have run dry
long gone are the days of holding my tongue
i'm sick and tired of biding my time and waiting it out
my temper is starting to get the best of me
but i have so much at stake, i have to remain caged
i have to continue on, weighed down beneath the surface
while the well-connected cream rises to the top
my hard work and ethics mean nothing
it's all about who you know
every corner i turn, the path gets longer
no matter how strong my integrity becomes
its lack of necessity becomes more evident each day
i hate the situation i've put myself in
but i still continue to work hard, refusing to kiss ass
the day is going to come when i get cornered
and when it does, i'm going to come out swinging


Back to the Words page

Back to the Main page