Day In The Box Poem by Celt Merlyn

I sit in my prison cell
In the guise of an office
Endless to-do lists
And non answered email

There is no armed warden
Only the manager in the chair
Senseless as a moron
Dispensing orders without a care

My garb is Dockers grey
No standard state issue
Look good for the meetings
I still feel so fey

There is no time for good behavior
Just shaking the bush, Boss
Most people would kill for this
It’s all in the profit and loss

I have penance to perform
Spreadsheets and reports
Have them on time or else
Jesus, why do I conform?