Another Day In The Unlife

Most days pass without complaint:
Others torment me
And require more restraint.
Sometimes I idly hum
"I Am The Walrus"
Even as I pass through
The gates of Tartarus
To slave away for the Egg-men.

Someone insults me
By insinuating I don't know my job.
She calls me rude
And storms away,
Leaving me to bear the brunt
Of her perceived redress
Though the manager
Considers my years of service
Over her tempest.
My anger subsides in a while,
And I remember my true purpose.

I talk with a representative of our Collective--
His waters swifter than
His shallow pool might imply.
We talk of spirits and Spirits.
We talk of our disappointments
In this factory of drones,
And injustices wrought upon us all
By the Corporate machine.

They sadden our over-seers
With their weight and their demands.
And make our lives an un-living Hell.
I wish things could be better.

Our talk remind me
Of things of which
I had lost sight.
I remember my true purpose
And continue slaving
Through the night
For the promise of day.