My Job Poem by Tracy Rollings

I woke up this morning, wasn't feeling any pain
hoping for the sunshine, but ended up with rain.

I make it to the kitchen, to get me some coffee to go
I'll never make it on time, because I'm moving so slow.

Hurrying out the door, so I could make it to the car
rushing down the interstate, didn't make it to far.

I hit something in the road, and cut my tire
sat beside the road, for more than an hour.

Tried to call the office, but the didn't bring my phone
in such a big rush, I must have left it at home.

Were alway in a hurry, to go get the job done
never have any time, to stop and have some fun.

Got angry at the car, and decided to sit for a spell
but I stepped on a bottle, and some how I fell.

Something told me, I should have stayed in bed
now I'm laid up in the hospital, just about dead.

All for that stupid job, so I wouldn't be late
sometimes we forget, that jobs not so great.

A serious price to pay, to make in on time
now I'm laying in the hospital, not making a dime.